


Grace Under Pressure, Courage Under Fire

by poetikat



Series: Hope, Fear, Grace, Courage [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Family, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-15
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:30:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 97,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetikat/pseuds/poetikat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dave comes out, everything changes. A high school fairy tale that's quite possibly too sweet for its own good. The sequel to Nothing to Fear But Fear Itself. Heartwarming and outrageously AU post 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Safe Haven

**Author's Note:**

> _This story is an attempt to write a plausible alternate Season Two immediately following 2.06, in which Dave Karofsky comes out at a Challenge Day a couple weeks after the episode. It immediately follows Nothing to Fear But Fear Itself. If you haven't read that one, this chapter will probably not make a whole lot of sense._

_This story is an attempt to write a plausible alternate Season Two immediately following 2.06, in which Dave Karofsky comes out and his whole world changes. It immediately follows Nothing to Fear But Fear Itself. If you haven't read that one, this chapter will probably not make a whole lot of sense._

* * *

"– not like you need help with that, right, son? Anyway, Phil's son can't make it to the next home game – something about touring colleges that weekend – and he wanted to know if we wanted the tickets instead. How's that sound?"

"How's what sound?" Dave asked his dad. "Sorry."

"The Buckeyes game," his dad said again. "Want to go with me?"

Dave didn't answer.

"What's going on with you?" his dad asked impatiently. "You've been out of it all evening. Something going on at school?"

"Did you and Azimio get in a fight?" his mom asked. "I'm sure it'll blow over."

"No – I mean, no, we didn't get in a fight." _I don't think so, at least._ He wasn't sure what to do about the fact that Azimio hadn't even looked at him since the Challenge Day assembly earlier today.

"Then what is it?" his dad pressed. "Spit it out, son. I want to know what's big enough to distract you from the possibility of attending a Buckeyes game."

"It's. Uh. There's really no good way to say this, I guess. But I think – no, I know I have to. Please don't be mad." Dave could feel his eyes stinging and shut them tightly so that tears wouldn't start leaking out. Damnit, what was with him and crying today?

His mom reached across the table to hold his hand, and he grabbed hold of it like a scared little kid. "Honey?"

"I'm gay," he blurted out.

Silence fell around the table instantly, as if his words had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. He kept his eyes shut, not wanting to see the expressions on his parents' faces. His mother tugged her hand out of his grip.

"No," she finally said weakly. "You're confused. You're not gay."

He opened his eyes to find his parents staring at him like he was a total stranger. "I'm so sorry," he said helplessly. "I'm really, really sorry."

"How could you think you were gay?" his mom asked. "You were on the hockey team. You're on the _football_ team. You like sports. You aren't gay."

"Yes," he said softly. "I am."

His dad's stunned expression was quickly turning into a disgusted scowl.

"No," she snapped. "How would you even know? How could you even say it? Have you tried being attracted to girls?"

"I – yeah, with this one girl last year. Y'know, kissing and stuff. But it didn't. It didn't work for me." Dave clenched his fists nervously. "But guys – I like guys. The way other guys like girls."

"Who did this to you?" she asked desperately, wringing her hands.

Dave shook his head vehemently. "No one!"

She spoke over him like he hadn't said anything. "It was that boy at your school, wasn't it? That Hummel boy. What did he do to you?"

Kurt's words from three weeks ago popped into his head. _"Oh, yeah, every straight guy's nightmare, that all us gays are secretly out to molest and convert you."_ Jesus. No wonder he'd said it so scathingly.

"Nothing!" he shouted, and she flinched. "He didn't do anything to me, Mom," he continued, more quietly. "I just – I just am, okay?"

His dad shoved himself away from the table. "No," he said furiously, looming over Dave. "It's not okay. It's wrong – it's inexcusable. It's sinful, perverted, and disgusting. I'm ashamed to look at you."

"Dad," Dave protested.

His dad's face reddened in anger, and he turned to Dave's mom. "I'm going out," he said in disgust. "And when I get back, he'd better be gone or ready to take it back."

He stormed out of the dining room. Seconds later, the front door slammed, and Dave slumped in his seat miserably.

"Will you take it back and apologize for worrying us?" his mom asked, the corners of her mouth drawn tight with anger.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he told her unhappily. "I can't."

"Very well." She stood up and began clearing the dishes as if nothing was wrong. "Then you'd better leave before your father returns."

He stood up as well, hovering awkwardly by the dining table. "I really am sorry," he said again.

"Sorry isn't good enough," she said sharply. "Now go. Get out."

He fled to his room to pack, unable to face her any longer.

 _Fuck courage,_ he thought savagely as he shoved a few changes of clothing into his gym bag. _Fuck that fucking smug prep school prick and his courage. He can take that courage and shove it up his holier-than-thou prep school ass._

He stomped down the stairs and out to his truck, backpack over one shoulder and gym bag over the other. Where did they expect him to go? How could they just throw him out?

 _Because it's sick and wrong._ He squashed that thought ruthlessly. He wasn't sick, and it wasn't wrong. He just…was who he was. He looked back up the driveway at the kitchen window, hoping against hope that his mother was looking back out at him, but all he saw were the always-open curtains falling shut.

"Fuck," he whispered, dropping his head against the steering wheel briefly. Where would he go? He didn't know anyone who would take him in; Azimio's parents were just as conservative as his own, and he wasn't well liked by a whole lot of other people.

Then it hit him. He could go to Kurt's place. He hadn't been there for a few years – not since they'd nailed his lawn furniture to the roof – but he was confident he could find it again.

Dave turned his key in the ignition and sped off down the street toward what he hoped would be a kind welcome and a place to lay his head for the night.

TEAOMAL

The lights were on at the Hummel residence when Dave pulled up in front. He parked carefully behind Kurt's fancy black Navigator and took a second to calm his racing heart. He could do this. What was the worst that could happen if they didn't let him stay? So he'd spend an uncomfortable night in the back of his truck. It could be worse.

A middle aged man with a few days' growth of stubble answered the door on his fourth knock. "Can I help you?" the man asked gruffly, eyeing Dave with suspicion.

"I – are you Kurt's dad?" Dave asked. "Is he here? I need to talk to him. Can I talk to him?"

The man's suspicious look deepened. "Yeah, I'm his dad. Stay put. I'll go see if he's free."

"No need," Kurt said as he appeared over his dad's shoulder. "Karofsky? What are you doing here?"

Maybe it was the lack of suspicion in Kurt's expression, or the lack of disgust, or maybe it was just _seeing_ Kurt that did it, but the crushing weight that had been suffocating him since dinner suddenly vanished, and he felt like he could breathe again. "They kicked me out. My parents. I told them," he said disjointedly. "They told me to take it back or leave."

"And you left," Kurt concluded, and for a moment he looked as furious as Dave's dad had looked.

The realization hit him like an actual, physical blow: _He's not mad at me, he's mad for me_. It was so shocking he swayed in place, stunned.

"I didn't know where else to go," Dave told them. He tried to smile, but his lips were trembling too hard to manage it. "Can I stay with you tonight?"

"Yes!" Kurt exclaimed, reaching over his dad's shoulder to clasp Dave's arm comfortingly. "Yes, of course you can stay. Right, Dad?"

"Yeah," Mr. Hummel said, looking incredibly sad all of a sudden. He stepped out of the doorway and beckoned to Dave. "Come on in, kid. What did you say your name was again?"

Dave sagged with relief. "Dave – uh, Dave Karofsky." He hitched his thumb at his truck. "I have a bag – I'll be right back –"

"Give me the keys," Mr. Hummel said gruffly. "I'll get your stuff. You go on inside with Kurt and sit down. You look like you're about to fall over."

He felt like it, too, and handed his keys over to Mr. Hummel with a sense of relief. "Thank you," he told them, overwhelmed.

Mr. Hummel just shook his head, dismissing his thanks wordlessly as he strode past Dave down the driveway to the truck.

"Come on," Kurt said, his voice oddly kind and gentle. "It's going to be okay. You're safe here."

God, Dave wanted to kiss him for being so nice, but he wasn't about to make that mistake again – oh, he wished he could, but he knew better. So instead he just followed him inside quietly, dazed and numb from the events of the past hour.

Kurt led him past the living room and down a staircase to a bedroom furnished with monochromatic, stylish-looking furniture. It looked stark, clean and modern, like something out of one of his mom's interior design magazines. It wasn't at all what Dave would have expected for Kurt Hummel, but he was coming to the conclusion that where Kurt was concerned, almost every preconceived notion he had was going to be proved wrong.

"Sit," he ordered Dave, pointing at a long, low couch.

Dave sat obediently, closing his eyes and leaning back into the soft cushions. Kurt dropped down next to him with a deep sigh.

"I thought you might think I deserved this," Dave admitted reluctantly. "I wouldn't have blamed you if you did."

"No one deserves to be treated like that," Kurt replied. "No one. Not you, not me, not anyone."

"I know that," Dave said. "I do. It's just –" He broke off, horrified to find himself tearing up again. "Wh-why would they do that? I'm their s-son. I thought they loved me."

"They do," Kurt said emphatically. He slipped his hand into Dave's, and Dave gave it a grateful squeeze. "Prejudice is just ignorance. They do love you, but they need to have their eyes opened about their prejudices before things can get better." He sounded like he was quoting someone.

"'Prejudice is just ignorance,' huh? Where did you pick that up?"

"Blaine," Kurt said.

"That the prep school kid?"

"The very same."

Dave bit down on his jealousy hard. He had no grounds to be jealous. Kurt was being more than wonderful just by letting him stay the night. "Oh," he said instead.

There was a clomping sound coming down the stairs, and Dave opened his eyes to see Mr. Hummel at the base of the staircase with his gym bag and backpack in his hands. "I re-parked your car inside the garage," he told Dave, depositing the bags on the floor. He tossed the keys in a gentle arc toward the couch, and Dave caught them easily with his free hand.

"Thanks, Mr. Hummel," he said again, and again Mr. Hummel shrugged off his gratitude.

"Call me Burt," Mr. Hummel said instead. He looked at Dave sympathetically. "How are you feeling, kid?"

"Like crap," Dave said honestly, and this time it was Kurt who gave _his_ hand a squeeze. "Angry. Sad. I don't know. Just…bad."

Burt nodded. "Given how you're feeling, I won't tell you to get your homework done – couldn't fault you for not being able to concentrate. Why don't you two watch a movie and turn in early? Kurt, I think Finn's Zombieland DVD is floating around someplace, if you'd like to watch that together."

"It's down here," Kurt said. He turned to Dave. "What do you think? Zombieland?"

"Sounds good." _Sounds great. You're amazing. Thank you._

"I'll be upstairs if either of you need anything," Burt told them, turning to trudge up the stairs. "Door stays open, Kurt."

Kurt smiled. "No problem." He went to his desk to retrieve the DVD and his laptop. "We could go upstairs and watch it on the big screen, if you want to," he told Dave. "I have a feeling you'd rather stay down here, though."

"If that's okay with you," Dave said. "But yeah, you're right." He was tired and miserable, and the last thing he wanted to do was get up and move.

"It's fine, Karofsky," Kurt said, settling back down next to him. "It doesn't matter to me one way or the other."

"Dave," Dave corrected, and scooted a hair closer as the Zombieland main menu popped up.

"What?"

"Please. Call me Dave."

"I think I can handle that."

The first several minutes of the movie passed in relative silence save for the sound of their laughter. "Kurt?" Dave interrupted when the movie hit a quiet spot. "Your dad…he doesn't seem to care. About you being gay, I mean."

Kurt laughed softly. "When I came out to him, he said that he'd known since I was three. He had quite a while to get used to the idea of having a gay son."

"He's really great," Dave told him seriously. "You're so lucky to have him as a parent."

"I know." Kurt turned sad eyes on Dave, and Dave shifted a tiny bit closer again. "I wish things had turned out better for you."

"Yeah," he said tiredly, "me too." He focused his weary eyes on Kurt's laptop screen again, done talking for the time being.

It wasn't long before the emotional roller coaster he'd been riding that day took its toll, and he felt himself start to slip in and out of sleep. The sudden silence roused him briefly.

"Wha?" He looked up blearily.

"It's okay," Kurt said quietly. "Lie down. I'm going to go turn the lights off."

Dave complied, stretching out sleepily on Kurt's fantastically comfortable couch, and a second later, the room was plunged into darkness. He listened to the soft rustling sounds of Kurt changing into his pajamas and climbing into his bed, and when they stopped, he spoke.

"Hey, Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"You're really great, too."

There was a beat of silence, and then, "You're not half bad yourself."

Dave fell asleep smiling.


	2. A Brave New School Day

_Beepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeepbeep!_

"Urgh."

Dave dismissed the alarm on his cell phone and sat up groggily. The soft black blanket he'd been sleeping under slid off his legs and fell to the floor as he stood, momentarily confused by the unfamiliar surroundings. This wasn't his bedroom. How had he ended up in some ritzy magazine-spread bachelor pad? His eyes lit on the neatly made bed in the corner, and the memory of the previous day smacked him into full consciousness.

He was at Kurt's.

He'd outed himself in front of a hundred other students. He'd come out to his parents.

And he was at Kurt's.

He looked down at the couch he'd spent the night on, wishing he was still sound asleep and blissfully unaware of the world around him. _I could go back to sleep_ , he thought. _I could just crawl back under the blanket and skip school._ He sighed. _Or I could stop being such a wimp and face the day._

"Face the day" it would be. He stripped out of the clothes he'd slept in, wrinkling his nose at the ripe smell of his tee-shirt. It would be just his luck if he'd forgotten to throw deodorant in his gym bag. He tugged on a clean set of clothes and jammed his feet into his sneakers carelessly, then dug around the bottom of his bag in a futile search for deodorant. Oh well. Football practice was after school today, so it wasn't like he wouldn't have ended up sweaty and gross by dinner anyway.

He grabbed his bags and made his way up the stairs quietly. There was no point in lingering. Yesterday had probably been a fluke – sure, Kurt had been nice and sympathetic, but by now he'd probably come to his senses and remembered that Dave was just another dumb jock who gave him hell at school. He'd thank them and get out of their hair before he overstayed his welcome.

"Oh, good, you're up," Kurt said as he walked into the kitchen. He shot Dave a small smile before turning back to the stove, where he was busy making something that smelled delicious.

Burt was perched on a stool at the far end of the kitchen counter with his nose buried in the sports section of the newspaper. At Kurt's words he set the newspaper down and looked up. "Good morning," he said with a yawn.

"Morning," Dave replied. He tightened his grip on the straps of his bags. "Thanks for letting me stay the night."

"Sleep alright?" Burt asked gruffly.

"I – yeah. Fine, thank you. I really should be –"

"Sit down," Burt said, patting the seat of the kitchen stool next to him. "Coffee?"

Dave shook his head. "No. Thanks. I have to –"

"Dave." This time is was Kurt, sounding amused and exasperated, who cut Dave off. "Sit. Have breakfast. Relax. We're not booting you out." Dave slowly set down his bags and slid onto the stool under Kurt's watchful eye.

"Coffee?" Burt asked again, holding up his own coffee mug for emphasis.

"You don't want it," Kurt told Dave. "There's nothing but decaf in the house. We can pick some up on the way to school." He turned the burner off, moved the delicious-smelling thing from the frying pan to a plate, and set it in front of Dave. "I hope you like omelets."

"Yeah, I do," Dave said. He wished it didn't take his brain so long to get into gear in the mornings. He probably sounded like an idiot to the Hummels. "Thanks." He dug into the omelet with gusto. "'S really good. What's in it?"

Kurt beamed. "Spinach, feta, and tomatoes. It is pretty good, isn't it?"

"Modesty is a foreign word to you," Burt commented blandly. A teasing glint in his eye gave lie to the criticism.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kurt sniffed. He couldn't keep up the snooty act for long, though, and cracked a smile when his dad rolled his eyes. The lighthearted joking made Dave smile around the fork in his mouth.

"Kurt tells me that you're on the football team with Finn," Burt said.

Dave nodded. "Played hockey last year, too, but not with Huds – uh, Finn."

"What positions?"

"Safety. And right winger." He scraped his fork against the plate to catch the last few crumbs of cheese and spinach.

Burt smiled. "Strong safety, I imagine, and the enforcer, too."

"If high school teams didn't get penalized so harshly for fighting, I would've been, yeah," Dave said. He shot Kurt a sidelong glance and frowned when he saw a slightly put-out look on his face. _He probably doesn't like it when he's left out,_ Dave thought. He had to fix that immediately. "Wish you'd stuck around for more than one game, Kurt. You gave us our only win last season."

He was rewarded by another one of Kurt's smiles as Burt nodded in agreement. "I would have, but when Tanaka launched his vendetta against our womanizing Glee Club advisor and changed all the practice days to coincide with rehearsals, the choice was taken out of my hands." Kurt shrugged. "Besides, Coach Beiste is doing an admirable job turning the team around without me or my admittedly excellent kicking ability."

Burt chuckled and turned back to Dave. "I'd appreciate it if you two shared a ride today," he said, sobering. "I know you both have after school practice, and I don't want either of you stuck on your own if someone decides to give you a hard time."

"Sure," Kurt answered for both of them. Dave's uncertainty was probably showing on his face, because Kurt took one look at him and said, "He's saying you're stuck with us until you're sick of us."

"Seriously?" Dave asked. "You mean that? But –" He stopped, lost for words. _What did I ever do to deserve your hospitality?_

"No buts," Burt said firmly. He pointed to the clock above the sink. "You boys ought to get a move on if you want to stop for coffee before school."

Kurt slung his book bag over his head, dropped a quick kiss on his dad's cheek, and made a break for the door. "I'm driving," he called back to Dave over his shoulder. "Come on!"

Dave scooped up his backpack and followed in Kurt's wake, awkwardly waving behind him as he darted out the door.

Kurt kept up a steady stream of chatter about inconsequential things as they drove to McKinley from Starbucks. Dave leaned his head against the passenger window and watched the scenery whiz by as he sipped at his coffee and listened to the sound of Kurt's voice. All too soon, Kurt pulled into the student parking lot.

"Scared?" Kurt asked.

Dave thought about denying it, but there was really no point. "Terrified."

Kurt smiled humorlessly. "A little advice – from one out gay kid to another." He paused, and Dave's heart gave a little skip that could have been out of fear or anticipation. "People are probably going to try and get under your skin about it. They'll call you names, they'll joke about you being a girl, they'll try to rough you up…. Don't give them the reaction they're looking for. Be above it. It doesn't matter if you don't feel confident. Do a good enough job pretending to be and they'll buy the act."

It seemed to Dave like he was apologizing with every other sentence. But if anyone deserved an apology from him, it was Kurt. "I'm – shit, I'm really sorry. I've been a real asshole to you."

"Yes, you have," Kurt said bluntly. "But schadenfreude is overrated, for one thing, and for another, I've forgiven Finn and Puck for being almost as awful, and the only reason they tormented me before joining Glee was because it was 'fun.' For what it's worth, I'm not totally innocent when it comes to giving people crap, either. I just use words where you jock-types use your hands."

"Doesn't matter," Dave said uncomfortably. "Thought I told you not to even think about apologizing."

"You did. And so did I. So let's just put it behind us, alright?" The ten-minute warning bell rang, and Kurt flashed him an encouraging smile. "You ready?"

"No," Dave said.

Kurt raised an expectant eyebrow, and Dave smiled despite the churning sensation in his stomach.

"Bring it on," he said.

"That's more like it," Kurt said approvingly, and stepped out of the car. "Meet you back here after practice? Cheerios practice gets out at 5:30."

"Sure," Dave agreed. "I'll, uh, I'll see you in French?"

"Je suis impatient d'y être," Kurt said sincerely, and strolled off in the direction of the math hall before Dave could respond.

"So am I," he finally managed to say to the front right tire of Kurt's Navigator. He fought down to goofy smile that threatened to overtake his face and hurried off to the English hall.

 _Act confident._ Right, he could do that. He squared his shoulders and stepped through the double doors and into the hall boldly, feigning a confidence he didn't feel in the slightest. All he wanted to do was make it from where he was standing to his seat in English 11 with as little hassle as possible.

"Hey Dave!" someone called out.

Dave scanned the crowded hall for the speaker, half expecting that it would be accompanied by a cold slushy to the face.

"Hey!" the voice called again from somewhere in the vicinity of his left armpit. He looked down to see Brittany Pierce smiling up at him, Santana by her side.

"Hey," he answered guardedly.

"Hey!" she said again. "So, you're like totally not what I was expecting a gay guy to look like – which is cool," she rushed to add, "because you're super cute. And you're like a really good kisser."

"And she knows from where she speaks," Santana interjected.

"Um." Dave resisted the urge to ask Santana if Brittany was entirely 'up there.' "Thanks?"

"You should totally teach Kurt to kiss better," Brittany told him.

"It would be really hot," Santana said, eyeing him up and down.

"I think he wants to know what boy lips taste like," Brittany continued.

"Um," Dave said again.

"Did I mention that it would be ridiculously hot?" Santana asked rhetorically.

"Also, you would make really cute babies together," Brittany said.

"What?"

"Ignore that. Her grasp of biology is weak at best," Santana said. "Anyway. We were wondering if you and Kurt would like to go to Breadstix with us sometime this weekend."

"I can't answer for Kurt, but I guess," Dave said. "Why?"

Santana reached up and patted his shoulder patronizingly. "I know you play contact sports, sweetie, so it's understandable that you're a little slow. But for the love of God, you aren't _that_ dumb."

"Because you think it would be hot if I kissed Kurt?" he asked.

Santana shook her head, making her curly ponytail bounce. "Because you crossed that line with us," she said, serious for a second. Then her brief moment of sincerity passed and she smiled wickedly. "And because you'd be totally hot together."

The two minute bell rang. "You can get our numbers from Kurt," Santana said, linking arms with Brittany. "Call us when you feel like painting the town red!"

Completely befuddled, he could only nod. Santana laughed and elbowed him. "Get to class, meathead. We'll see you around."

He nodded again, flustered, and hurried off to class, taking his seat just as the final bell rang. As Mrs. Borchard took attendance he turned the unexpected encounter over in his mind.

It didn't seem possible, but…he'd actually made friends by coming out.

TEAOMAL

"How's it going so far?" Kurt asked him quietly during their shared 3rd period French.

Dave bent his head over their exercise sheet as if he were reading it carefully. "It's been weird."

"Anyone giving you a hard time?"

"Not really," Dave said. "Figure I'll get that at practice, though." He scratched out a couple of words he'd jotted down and leaned in closer to Kurt. "What do you think works better? 'Comment fatigué, vieux, plates et stériles, or 'Combien pesantes, usées, plates et stériles?"

"The second," Kurt said thoughtfully. "It's more faithful to the original Shakespeare."

"That's what I thought," Dave said.

Kurt snatched the pen away from him before he could write the next few lines of their translation down. "Let me," he said. "Your penmanship is atrocious."

"En Français, s'il vous plaît!" Mme. Warren chided from her desk.

"Nous sommes désolés, Madame," Kurt replied. He turned back to Dave. "Votre calligraphie est atroce."

"Vous me blesser!" Dave said jokingly. "Dites ce n'est pas si."

Kurt grinned. "Mentirais-je pour vous?"

"Revenons à la traduction," Dave said, shaking his head in amusement. How had he not noticed that Kurt was _funny_?

The bell rang to let classes out for lunch much sooner than Dave wanted it to. He packed away his French binder reluctantly, lingering in the classroom until the crush of students passing by thinned out.

Kurt was waiting for him outside the door. "If you want to eat lunch with my friends and me, you're welcome to do so," he said as they walked toward the cafeteria together.

"I'd like to," Dave said. He really, really did. "But I think it would be better if I sat with the football guys. Gotta get it over with, right?"

"Sooner rather than later," Kurt agreed. "Good luck, by the way."

"Thanks." _I probably need it._

They walked through the cafeteria doors side by side, and as students noticed their entry, the volume of conversation dropped noticeably.

 _They're talking about me. Shit._ He turned to Kurt. "They're talking about me!" he hissed.

"Probably," Kurt said with an expressive shrug. "So what? Bring it on, remember?"

Dave laughed nervously. "Right." _Bring it on._ He pasted a confident look on his face and sauntered toward the lunch line. Any minute now, someone was going to slushy him. Or yell something. Or trip him. Or –

"Yo, Karofsky!" Tom Lowry, the shortstop for the varsity baseball team, stepped into his path. Dave stopped short, and Lowry leaned in aggressively. "Is it true? Did you seriously come out as a homo during that Challenge Day thing yesterday?"

It seemed like the entire cafeteria was holding its collective breath waiting for the answer.

 _Courage. Confidence. Bring it the fuck on._ "Three things for you to keep in mind, Lowry. I'm bigger than you. I'm stronger than you. And I'm pretty sure I'm meaner than you. Got that?"

Lowry took a step back.

"Yeah. I'm gay. Now fuck off. I'm hungry, and you're holding me up."

Someone laughed loudly as Lowry slowly got out of Dave's way. As Dave continued to cross the cafeteria, he noticed a few people smiling at him as he passed by. Most he recognized from Challenge Day, but some just seemed to be smiling at him for no reason at all. The friendly behavior was confusing to say the least, but it made it easier to ignore the hostile, calculating stares coming from the other students.

He collected his lunch of pepperoni pizza and soda with minimal fuss and went to sit at his usual table. "Budge over, dude," he ordered Azimio, hoping he didn't sound as unsure of his welcome as he felt.

Azimio ignored him in favor of pretending to be fascinated by the tater tots on his tray.

"Come on, man," Dave said quietly. "Please."

The new QB, Evans, shrugged and shoved Hudson over. "'Sup, dude," he said casually. "Take a seat."

Dave waited a second to see if his best friend would look up. When Azimio kept poking at his tater tots, he shrugged and took the proffered seat. "Thanks."

"No big." Evans smiled at him. "So, I take it I missed something big by not being at Challenge Day."

Azimio snorted.

"You could say that," Dave said.

"So, you're like, gay now, right?" Puckerman asked.

Dave tamped down on the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, Puckerman. Yesterday, I woke up and was suddenly gay. That's how it works. People go to bed straight, and bam! They wake up gay." He lowered his voice ominously and turned to look at Hudson. "It could even happen to you."

Hudson's eyes widened comically, and Evans snickered. "Watch out, Finn," he gasped theatrically. "You'll be next!"

"Jackass," Hudson grumbled good-naturedly, breaking the tense atmosphere surrounding the table.

"Sorry, dude. That wasn't what I meant," Puckerman said.

"Yeah, whatever," Dave said dismissively. "Anyway. Think Coach will let us get out and play today? Or are we in for another afternoon of drill hell?"

"We'll probably get out to play," Evans said. "Beiste wants me'n'Finn to be able to pull off a naked bootleg against Ellison High in our next game."

"Their defensive line isn't fast enough to be effective against a bootleg," Hudson said, leaning across Sam to talk to Dave. "But the Beiste figures that Sam's fast enough to do the play without Azimio blocking for him."

"Nice," Dave said. "Anyone else relieved as fuck that Tanaka's gone?"

Hands shot up all around him.

"Shit yes," Puckerman said fervently.

"We'll probably even get _scouts_ out at our games now," Anthony Rashad said. He stabbed the air in front of him with a Cheeto for emphasis. "I mean, I feel bad for Tanaka, honestly, but Coach Beiste is the best thing to happen to the Titans since the 'Single Ladies' trick play."

"That was impressive," Puckerman agreed. "Really fucking queer, but impressive."

Rashad smacked Puckerman upside the head with a Cheeto-dust covered palm before Dave could say anything. "No tact, Puckerman. Seriously."

"Don't be a douche," Hudson added. He looked at Dave with a mildly apologetic smile. "Sorry, dude. He didn't mean it like that."

 _Yes he did fucking mean it like that,_ Dave wants to snap, but he doesn't want to push things into 'uncomfortable serious discussion' territory. "Whatever. No big deal." Except it kind of was a big deal. And it was an even bigger deal that Azimio still hadn't said a damn thing to him.

He'd try again at practice later. One way or another, he'd find a way to get Azimio to talk to him.

* * *

Translations:

'Comment fatigué, vieux, plates et stériles,' / 'Combien pesantes, usées, plates et stériles': 'How tired, old, flat and unprofitable' / 'How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable'

En Français, s'il vous plait!: In French, please!

Nous sommes désolés, Madame: We're sorry, Madame

Votre calligraphie est atroce.: Your penmanship is atrocious

Vous me blesser!: You wound me!

Dites ce n'est pas si: Say it isn't so

Mentirais-je pour vous?: Would I lie to you?

Revenons à la traduction: Let's get back to the translation


	3. After School Emotional Roller Coasters

Getting changed in the locker room wasn't at all like he'd expected it would be after coming out. Dave had feared that he'd be given the same treatment that Kurt had received during his stint on the football team ( _"Keep your eyes to yourself, fairy!" "Are you checking me out, fag?" "Fucking homo. The hell are you on the team for, anyway?"_ ), but the guys seemed to be determined to act like everything was normal. It was business as usual – on the surface. There was a forced edge to the joking and the horseplay, though, and their eyes slid over Dave uneasily, as though they wanted to tell him to go get changed elsewhere, but were too afraid to do it.

"Explain something to me," he said to Puckerman as they all walked out to the field in their gear.

"Sure, dude," Puckerman said. "What's up?"

"When Kurt was on the team, he got all kinds of hell from everyone for changing in the locker room."

"And?"

"And you guys didn't say one bad word to me in there," Dave said testily. Was he being ungrateful? He thought he was, but a prickly streak of _not right not fair_ was undercutting any relief he felt at being treated normally.

"Dude, it's not like we have a problem with gay dudes," Puckerman said. "It's just…"

"It's just that there's a difference between wanting to do guys and being Kurt," Abrams interrupted.

"Hummel's cool and all, but he's a total flamer," Puckerman continued. "Dudes like that don't really know how to behave around straight guys."

"Dude, that's my almost-stepbrother you're talking about," Hudson snapped.

"What the fuck ever, man, you know you agree with us," Puckerman shot back.

Hudson glared, but he didn't argue the point further.

Chang gave them all an incredulous look and shook his head. "You guys are dicks," he said flatly. "I mean, I knew you were jerks already, but holy crap. If this is how you treat someone you consider a friend, then I'd rather be your enemy."

"What are you talking about?" Abrams asked, sounding bewildered. "It's not like it's not true."

"Kurt told us during the 'if you really knew me' exercise that he hates – _hates_ – being called a girl. And you guys do it all the time in Glee." Chang shook his head again in disbelief. "It's pretty messed up that you treat him that way."

"It's not like he doesn't ask for it by acting like that," Puckerman said defensively.

"Seriously. Would it kill him to tone it down?" Abrams added.

Dave waited to see if Hudson would come to Kurt's defense, but he just hunched his shoulders awkwardly and looked down.

"Unbelievable," Chang muttered. He picked up his pace and strode off ahead of them, his shoulders tight with anger.

"What's up with him?" Puckerman wondered aloud.

"He's right," Dave surprised himself by saying. "You guys are all being complete dicks. Kurt is smaller and weaker than all of you, and you're acting like, like…" He cast around for the right thing to say. Again, Kurt's own words came to mind. "Like he's out to molest and convert you, or something. But me, me you're fine with? Because I'm not into fashion and Broadway?"

The guys exchanged uncomfortable looks.

"Well," Hudson said, shamefaced.

"Look," Dave said. "I appreciate that you aren't trying to make my life harder. I really appreciate that you aren't holding acting like an asshole against me. But you're being really shitty friends to someone who has been incredibly nice to me even when I really didn't deserve his kindness. It's just – it's seriously screwed up."

No one seemed to have anything to say. Puckerman and Abrams both looked defensive. Evans looked thoughtful. Hudson looked stricken. _Well, at least one of them gets it._

"Hustle up!" Coach Beiste yelled at them from the 50 yard line. "This is not a social club, gentlemen. You're here to practice, not to chat!"

They jogged over to their coach, conversation over for the moment.

"Alright," Beiste said as they listened attentively. "Offense, I want you in a spread formation; Hudson, you're up as QB first. Defense, I want you in a 5-2 formation. We'll be doing runs until Hudson can perform a bootleg in his sleep. Then we'll switch it up and get Evans in to work on a waggle. We clear?"

"Yes, Coach!" they chorused.

"Good. Get cracking, gentleman. We have a long afternoon ahead of us."

TEAOMAL

 _Bam!_

Dave hit the ground with a resounding thud for the fourth time in as many minutes. He scrambled to his feet, glaring at Azimio.

"What the hell is your problem?" Dave yelled. From across the field, he could hear Coach Beiste blowing her whistle loudly.

Azimio snorted in disgust and turned to jog back to his position.

Beiste blew her whistle again. "That's enough!" she barked, striding toward them angrily. "Adams, I want you off this field now. Pack up. Go home. You're done for the day."

"Coach," Azimio protested. "Come on."

Beiste flung out her arm, gesturing furiously in the direction of the gym. "No! This is not up for debate. Now get your butt in gear and get off my field. You can look forward to putting in extra time running laps next practice session."

Azimio scowled, but he did as she said and stomped off the field, yanking his helmet off violently as he went.

"Karofsky," Beiste said, "I don't know what all is going on with you two, but I need this sorted out before our next practice. We're a team, and we need to work together like one. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Coach," Dave muttered.

Coach Beiste clapped him on the back. "Consider this your once-in-a-lifetime get out of practice free card," she said. "Go work things out with your friend."

"Thanks, Coach," Dave said, relieved, and as he walked toward the locker rooms to get changed he could hear Beiste shouting at two of the second stringers to "get your butts on the field, pronto!"

He came into the locker room just as Azimio was pulling off his tee-shirt. "Don't you think about looking at me," Azimio snarled.

"Don't worry about it," Dave shot back. "Jackasses are a turn off for me, anyway."

"Fuck off, funny man," Azimio said as he pulled on his street clothes hastily. He slammed his locker shut and made for the door.

"Don't you dare," Dave growled. "Don't you fucking dare walk out that door. Now tell me. What. Your FUCKING problem is."

"YOU!" Azimio shouted, whirling around to face him. "YOU ARE MY FUCKING PROBLEM! YOU and your LYING GODDAMN SELF are my problem!"

"NO ONE KNEW!" Dave shouted back. "I didn't tell a FUCKING SOUL!"

"And you SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME!" Azimio bellowed.

Dave laughed in disbelief. "Tell _you_? When? In sixth grade? In sixth grade you told me that your neighbors were going to hell for being gay. Seventh? Yeah, maybe seventh grade – oh, wait. That was the year you turned 'faggot' into an adjective and used it to describe everything you hated. Eighth grade? Your parents thought that 'the gays are ruining the country' made for good dinner conversation."

"I get it," Azimio said.

Dave was on a roll. Everything he'd been keeping bottled up that he'd wanted to say to Azimio was coming out in a loud, angry torrent. "Or how about ninth grade? That was a good year – except for you punching Dereck Thorpe the first week of school for 'being a cocksucker' because he was a scrawny little kid who liked to draw that Japanese comic shit."

"I get your point!"

"Should I have told you last year? I mean, it's not like you were the one who got everyone on the football team calling the Glee Club 'Homo Explosion'. Except, hey, you _were_ the genius behind that nickname. Or maybe – "

"STOP!" Azimio shouted. "Stop! I get it. I get your point."

"How the hell was I supposed to believe you wouldn't try to beat the gay out of me if I told you, huh?" Dave asked. "Not once – not _once_ – did you ever say or do anything that might have made me think you weren't a homophobe. And – fuck, my parents did enough to make me hate myself for it, but having my best friend be homophobic, too? It was like I was doomed."

"Well, you could have given me a chance!" Azimio said. He spread his hands wide and looked at Dave with furious, pleading eyes. "You've been my _best friend_ since we were in elementary school. My _best friend_. I'm not – I'm not saying that you being queer doesn't freak me the fuck out –"

"Like that wasn't obvious," Dave interrupted.

"BUT," Azimio said loudly, speaking over him. "But you could have given me a goddamn chance. I'm not pissed that you're gay, you asshole. I'm pissed because I had to find out this shit yesterday along with a hundred other people."

"Yeah? Then think of this as your chance."

"What, now?" Azimio asked.

"Yes, now," Dave said. "I care about you, man. You're like family to me. But you need to get over your issues with gay people. Because that's not gonna change no matter how hard you wish for it, and I'm not gonna be friends with someone who thinks I'm going to hell for being gay."

"Yeah, okay," Azimio said. "I get it. I'll try, I will. Seriously."

Dave crossed his arms and let out a deep, relieved breath. "So…are we cool?"

"No," Azimio said. "I'm still pissed at you for not telling me sooner. But the whole gay thing? Yeah. We're cool."

They stared at each other in awkward silence for several seconds before Azimio broke it. "I'm gonna head home. Got a chemistry test to study for."

"Right," Dave said. "Catch you around tomorrow?"

"For sure." And with a halfhearted parting smile, his best friend walked out the door, leaving him alone in the locker room to change.

Cheerios practice didn't get out for another ten minutes. Dave slipped into the gym quietly and took a seat on the bottom riser of the bleachers to wait for Coach Sylvester to call a halt to what looked like a grueling practice session.

"Stop wobbling, you miserable excuses for cheerleaders!" Coach Sylvester screeched into her megaphone. "I've seen howler monkeys put on a better performance than this!"

"It's Santana's fault," a solidly built girl griped as she knelt at the bottom of a pyramid.

"Shut up, Kim," Santana said. "If you could actually keep to the beat, Quinn wouldn't have fallen the last three times."

"CHUBS! SAPPHO!" Sylvester shouted. "I don't care whose fault it is! Stop making the pyramid wobble!" She swung around and aimed a beady glare at the pile of blue exercise mats in the corner of the gym, where Kurt was holding himself in a plank position and singing a very painful-sounding version of the scales.

"Five more minutes, Ladyface," Sylvester shouted. "Then move on to crunches!"

Kurt broke off from singing the scales briefly to call back in a breathless voice, "Yes, Coach Sylvester!"

"YOU!"

Dave jumped. Coach Sylvester was glowering at him from over her megaphone.

"Yes, you! Sneaky gay! What are you doing in my gym?"

"Waiting for my ride," Dave said, pointing in Kurt's direction.

From the bottom of the pyramid, Santana let out a snicker that sounded positively filthy. "I'll bet you are," she drawled.

Kurt blushed scarlet, his singing momentarily faltering.

"YOU ARE A DISTRACTION!" Coach Sylvester bellowed. "I want you OUT!"

"Didn't he already come out?" Brittany asked innocently, and Santana succumbed to a fit of giggles. Over in the corner, Kurt lost his balance and hit the floor, his face still beet red.

"OUT!" Coach Sylvester yelled again. "You too, Ladyface!"

Kurt scrambled to his feet and walked quickly toward the exit. As he passed the pyramid, Quinn Fabray called out, "Woooo! Get some, Kurt!"

"I hate you all," Kurt said with an air of injured dignity, "and I'm not afraid to sabotage your wardrobe for Glee."

"OUT!" Coach Sylvester shrieked.

They fled.

TEAOMAL

"Dad?" Kurt called out as they let themselves in.

"Upstairs, boys!" came the muffled response. "Come on up!"

They found him in a room that looked like it was supposed to be a study. The desk and office chair had been pushed into a corner to make room for a foldout couch. Burt was half buried in a closet, taking out an armful of what looked like fishing gear. Piled around his feet were several large cardboard boxes.

"Is that my stuff?" Dave asked numbly. _No please no don't let it be my stuff this is supposed to be temporary my parents love me they want me to come back no no no –_

"Kid," Burt said gently. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you like."

"Did…. Did they even say anything?"

Burt's lips tightened in rage. "Nothing I'd care to repeat."

 _Oh._

"I'll get everything straightened out and put away," Burt said. "Why don't you boys go do your homework and order something for dinner?"

"Sure," Kurt said. He took Dave by the sleeve and led him carefully from the study. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Dunno," Dave said dully. "I don't really care."

"How does Chinese sound?" Kurt suggested. "We usually get a couple orders of Moo Goo Gai Pan and steamed rice."

"Sure. I don't really care," he said again. He sat heavily on the living room couch and buried his face in his hands.

Kurt squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. "Okay. Let's get our homework out of the way, alright? Then we can watch a movie together. What do you think?"

Dave shrugged apathetically, but reached for his backpack anyway. He'd get the math out of the way first; no point in making himself think when his brain felt like it had been injected with Novocain.

He worked his way through the first four problems of the twenty-five assigned for homework before Kurt returned with his binder and textbooks to settle cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch.

"What math are you taking?" Kurt asked as he cracked open his geometry book.

"Algebra II," Dave said. "My one blowoff course of the semester." Kurt made a surprised noise, and Dave smiled at him faintly. "I'm not stupid, Kurt. It just takes me longer to pick up the history and English stuff. I'm not really all that great with words."

Kurt looked down at his homework, his face scarlet again. "I didn't mean –"

"Liar," Dave said lightly. Kurt flushed even deeper red at that. "It's okay. Hey, how about you help me proofread my essay for English, and I'll check over your geometry homework for mistakes?"

"What makes you think I need help?" Kurt asked.

Dave leaned over his shoulder and pointed at his first proof. "You skipped two steps. And if you have Fairbanks as your teacher, she'll mark the whole proof wrong for that, even if you come to the right conclusion."

"Ugh." Kurt flipped his pencil around and erased what he'd been writing. "I hate math."

"That's how I feel about English," Dave said. "Spelling and grammar are a pain in the ass."

"It's not so bad. I love the complexities and subtleties of the English language."

"I like the logic and dependability of math," Dave countered.

Kurt smiled at him, still pink-cheeked from a combination of embarrassment and vigorous exercise. His eyes were bright in the soft glow of the lamp light, and his normally meticulously-styled hair was just the slightest bit disheveled. He looked so alive and handsome, and he was so close to Dave – close enough that if he wanted to, he could just lean over and kiss him.

Dave tore his eyes away and ducked his head bashfully. "Anyway," he said. "Sound like a plan?"

"Sounds like a plan," Kurt confirmed.

They worked together quietly for another hour, Dave joining Kurt on the floor when their dinner arrived. They swapped papers several times to double-, triple-, and quadruple-check for possible errors before calling it good. Finally finished, they sat sprawled on the floor with their backs to the couch, papers, pens, and books strewn all around them.

"What do you say to a musical?" Kurt asked hopefully.

"I've never seen one," Dave said. "Are they any good?"

"They vary in quality, but a lot of them are amazing," Kurt said. He fumbled for the remote and aimed it at the enormous TV screen. "I have one in the DVD player right now that you might like called _The Music Man_."

"Alright," Dave agreed easily. "I don't think you'll lead me astray."

Kurt gave him another one of his breathtaking smiles, and as the opening credits rolled, Dave scooted a little closer under the pretense of leaning in to ask him a question.

"Are there any zombies in it?"

"Not unless someone tampered with my movie while I wasn't looking. Why?"

"It's just that in my experience almost every movie could be improved by zombies."

"I'll give you that for rom-coms, but keep your hypothetical undead out of my musical films. Deal?"

"Deal."

And even though he never worked up the nerve to put his arm around Kurt during the movie, it was still the best evening he'd had in weeks.


	4. Safety Nets and Support Groups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A student office aide came to Dave's U.S. History class in the middle of a lecture. The girl – who had to be a freshman with that wide-eyed, intimidated look – sidled in while Mr. Bell was striding up and down the rows of desks, gesturing wildly as he told the class about the monumental disaster known as the Prohibition Era. She stood right at the doorway, waiting for Bell to notice her.

A student office aide came to Dave's U.S. History class in the middle of a lecture. The girl – who had to be a freshman with that wide-eyed, intimidated look – sidled in while Mr. Bell was striding up and down the rows of desks, gesturing wildly as he told the class about the monumental disaster known as the Prohibition Era. She stood right at the doorway, waiting for Bell to notice her.

Chang, sprawled out in the desk closest to the aide, took pity. "He's not going to notice you're there," he told her, so quietly that Dave, who was a seat behind him, could hardly hear him. "He gets kind of into his lectures. Just hand over the hall pass and I'll make sure it gets to the right person."

The girl gave him a skeptical look, but surrendered the hall pass anyway, all but shoving it in Chang's hand and running out the door. The students who had noticed the exchange snickered, and Chang twisted around in his seat with a look of nostalgic amusement.

"Ahh, freshman year," he sighed, "that magical time of your life when upperclassmen are both terrifying and godlike. How I miss it." He held out the hall pass to Dave. "Miss Pillsbury wants you right now, by the way."

"Thanks." Dave quickly stuffed his binder and history book into his backpack and stood.

Mr. Bell glanced at him with vague disinterest as he continued to expound upon the 'strange bedfellows' who had thrown their support behind the Eighteenth Amendment. Dave held up his hall pass, and his teacher nodded dismissively.

The door to Miss Pillsbury's office was wide open when Dave got there, and the counselor had her nose buried in a file folder with "Karofsky, D." written across the tab. Dave knocked on the door frame to get her attention.

"Miss Pillsbury? You, uh, you wanted to see me?"

She looked up from the folder and smiled at him kindly. "Yes! Yes, of course, come in. Have a seat."

He settled into the seat across from her desk and waited for her to clue him in as to why he was there. He had an idea – he wasn't an idiot – but he'd thought she'd given up on getting him to talk about his feelings after he got two weeks' worth of detentions for fighting last year and refused to explain himself to her.

Miss Pillsbury folded her hands neatly on her desk and looked at him seriously. "I wanted to check in with you and see if you were doing alright."

"Fine," Dave said reservedly.

"No one is giving you a hard time about coming out on Wednesday, are they?" she asked. "I know that Kurt Hummel hasn't had an easy time being openly gay here at McKinley."

"No, really," Dave said. "It's been okay. I guess – I mean, it seems like the guys are okay with me being gay because I'm a jock, you know? Things are kind of weird in the locker room, but it's not as bad as I thought it was going to be."

Miss Pillsbury nodded in understanding. "I see."

"No, you don't," Dave told her. "It sucks. I – look, I used to bully Kurt."

"I suspected that that was the case," Miss Pillsbury said sadly.

"Then why didn't anyone stop me?" Dave asked, frustrated. "Why didn't someone, I don't know, call my parents or suspend me or something? Why didn't anyone help Kurt?"

Miss Pillsbury's normally sweet face darkened with anger. "William McKinley High School has rules against teachers and staff taking sides about 'controversial' topics like protection for LGBT students at the school. Punishing students for bullying their gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender classmates is taken as a violation of those rules."

"But that's not right," Dave said. "When you don't take sides, it's like you're saying to bullies that you think it's okay, or not a big deal."

"Don't think that I'm not entirely aware of the enormity of McKinley's bullying policy problem," Miss Pillsbury said. "But until the policy changes, all I can do is keep doing what I have been doing – offering my office as a safe haven to students who are the victims of bullying."

"It's not good enough," Dave argued.

"I agree," Miss Pillsbury said. "Now, I promise we'll come back to this, but I wanted to circle back around to what you were saying about how you used to bully Kurt."

"Right. I used to bully Kurt," Dave said again, "but it wasn't because he's into fashion and musicals and shit like that. I did it because I was jealous that he was so honest and open about who he was, and I didn't think I could have that. And now I'm out, and I'm trying to be better, and I thought maybe it – the bullying – would stop, but it hasn't."

"Kurt is still being harassed for his sexual orientation?" Miss Pillsbury asked.

"Not, like, shoved around or anything," Dave said, "but the guys…well, they say stuff about him. And it sucks, you know, because he's gotta be a hundred times braver than them – he's way braver than me – but they talk shit about him being a girl or a cross-dresser or whatever, and it's like, what the hell's wrong with them?" He stopped and gave her an apologetic look. "Sorry for swearing, Miss P."

Miss Pillsbury looked concerned. "Are all the boys on the football team behaving this way?"

"No. Evans keeps his opinions to himself, Rashad seems pretty okay with Kurt, and Azimio's not saying anything – not anymore, anyway. It seems to bother Hudson, but he's a wimp when it comes to standing up to his bros." Dave mentally ticked off his teammates' names – _White is okay, Beaumont is a prick, Girardi is a prick, Epstein is okay, Levitt is okay, McCarthy is a jackass, Tucker can go to hell, Sullivan is a prick, Gallagher is a prick, Satz is a douchebag, and Freshman and JV players don't matter_. "Oh, and Chang is cool. He told off a couple of guys for being jerks about Kurt."

"Good," Miss Pillsbury said with a satisfied smile. "I had hoped that my chat with him about offensive slurs and gay rights would bear fruit."

"Miss P.," Dave said sincerely, "you're really, really awesome."

Miss Pillsbury blushed. "Well, thank you, David." She straightened the already straight stack of folders on her desk, flustered. "Do you think it would help if I talked to the boys who were causing trouble?"

Dave shook his head. "Not really. I mean, Puckerman won't give a cr – a crud, and Abrams probably won't get the point. And if you talk to them about the homophobia thing, you'll have to talk to them about the sexism thing, and they _really_ won't get what's wrong with that. And it might make things worse for Kurt – and for me."

"You seem to care a great deal for Kurt," Miss Pillsbury said. Dave shrugged, and she smiled. "It's not a bad thing, David. I think it's very good that the two of you are able to overcome your history and support one another."

"I guess," Dave said. _Yes. It's the greatest thing ever. He's wonderful._

"However," she continued, "I would strongly caution you against pursuing a romantic relationship with Kurt right now."

 _Figures._ "Why?"

"Until just recently, you were one of Kurt's chief tormentors here at school," she said. "And while it's fantastic that you two are mending fences, I feel that it would be very unhealthy for both of you to begin dating while the wounds of your previous interactions are still so fresh."

"But I like him," Dave protested. "And I said I was sorry, and he forgave me. Doesn't that matter?"

"Of course it does," Miss Pillsbury assured him. "But let me put it to you this way. There is a girl in your grade who was the victim of very vicious bullying from some of her female classmates last year. One girl in particular was especially cruel, calling her things like 'man hands' and 'treasure trail,' and telling her she should get herself sterilized."

This had to be about Hudson's girlfriend and Quinn Fabray. Quinn's vendetta against Rachel Berry had been legendary last year. "That's horrible," Dave said.

"Yes it is," Miss Pillsbury said. "Now, imagine if the bully came to her victim and told her that she didn't really mean all those awful things she said, and that she actually had something of a crush on her. What would your advice be to the girl who was bullied?"

"Not to go out with her," Dave said immediately. _Oh. I get it._ "To, uh, hold off on anything like going out, because she needs to figure out if the girl who bullied her really did change, and to take as much time as she needs to get used to the new situation."

"Very good," Miss Pillsbury said approvingly. "That is exactly the kind of advice I would give the bullied girl in this scenario."

"But I can be friends with Kurt, right?" Dave asked. "That's okay, isn't it?"

"I certainly hope that you can build a friendship together," she said. "I think both of you could use the support. And speaking of which, I was approached by a student yesterday about the possibility of starting up a Gay-Straight Alliance here at McKinley. Would you be interested in joining such a club?"

"I dunno," Dave said. "Wouldn't that just paint bigger targets on anyone who joined? If it's gonna cause problems, then it would be easier to just keep my head down and wait for people to forget about the whole me-coming-out thing?"

"It might be easier," Miss Pillsbury said, "but that doesn't make it the better option. I won't tell you to join the GSA, David, but I do suggest you think about doing so. A support group for LGBTQ teens would certainly help bullying victims feel less alone at school."

"I will," Dave told her.

"Good. Now, I just had one more thing to talk about with you," Miss Pillsbury said. "Your mother called the school this morning to let us know that any official school correspondence was to be sent to Kurt Hummel's address, and I wanted to confirm with you that you were, in fact, staying with the Hummels."

"She did?" Dave felt the last remnants of his desperate hope for his parents to change their minds slip away at her words. "I mean, yeah, I'm living with Kurt."

"If you ever feel like talking to someone, my door will always be open to you," Miss Pillsbury said. "It doesn't matter if it's about your parents, Kurt, your classes, your teammates, or anything else. I just want you to know that you have one more adult you can count on to be there for you."

"Thanks, Miss P.," Dave said. "You really are awesome."

She smiled again and glanced up at the clock. "I didn't even hear the bell ring," she remarked. "Do you need a pass for your sixth period class?"

"I have a free period," Dave told her. "I'm gonna go to the library to knock out some homework."

"Take care, David," Miss Pillsbury said kindly as he stood to leave. "And please do think about joining the GSA."

TEAOMAL

Anthony Rashad caught up with Dave in the hallway after the final bell rang. "Dude!" he said brightly. "What is _up_? Having a good day? Nice work at practice yesterday, by the way. Is that a new shirt? New haircut? Looking sharp, man. You know you're my favorite teammate, right?"

"What do you want, Anthony?" Dave asked, amused.

Rashad clutched his chest dramatically. "Why so suspicious, man? Can't a guy give another guy over the top compliments without wanting something from him?"

"I don't know about that," Dave said, "but when it's you? No. What do you want?"

His teammate draped an arm around his shoulders and leaned in conspiratorially. "You know Kurt Hummel, right?"

"Yup," Dave said. "But let me stop you right there. Whatever you want with Kurt better be good, because if you mess with him I will fuck your shit up."

"Not where I was going with this," Rashad assured him. "Kurt Hummel has this friend, Mercedes Jones. That chick is _fierce_. I know you don't do girls, man, but even a gay guy has to admit that she's bangin'. And I was wondering if you'd put in a good word for me with Hummel so that he might be willing to set me up on a date with her."

Dave snickered and looked down the hall a ways. Kurt was standing by his locker chatting animatedly with Mercedes. "Ask him yourself," he said.

"Oh, hell no," Rashad said.

Dave cupped his hands around his mouth. "Kurt!" he called.

Kurt and Mercedes broke off from their conversation and looked up. "You're an asshole," Rashad hissed in his ear.

"You'll thank me later," Dave told him smugly.

"Yes?" Kurt asked expectantly as they approached his locker. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

Rashad just stared at Mercedes, tongue-tied and embarrassed. Mercedes, in turn, was staring Dave down coldly.

"Kurt, Mercedes, this is my buddy Anthony," Dave said. "Anthony has something he wants to say. Don't you?"

"I…what? Yeah," Rashad mumbled.

"Anthony here thinks you're really pretty," Dave told Mercedes.

" _Fierce_ ," Rashad said reverently.

"Bangin'," Dave confirmed. "It would make him really happy if you'd go on a date with him sometime."

Mercedes sniffed, unimpressed. "And why should I date someone who's a friend of yours?" she asked witheringly.

"To be fair, Anthony's never given us any trouble," Kurt pointed out. "We can't really hold him accountable for his socially maladjusted counterparts' behavior."

"I don't suppose you know anything about music or fashion," Mercedes said to Rashad. "It really would be too much to hope for."

"That's a Charlotte Ronson skirt, a Ben Sherman top, and Betsey Johnson boots," Rashad said. At Mercedes' look of surprise, he grinned. "I have three older sisters who talk about nothing but clothes."

Mercedes looked reluctantly impressed. "Alright," she said decisively. "You can come bowling with us on Sunday. Six-thirty work for you?"

"Us?"

"Tina, Kurt, Mike and me," Mercedes elaborated. She gave Dave a sidelong glance and added grudgingly, "You too, I guess."

"Gee, thanks," Dave said.

"You have no room to complain about anything," Mercedes told him. "I don't like you. I am _completely justified_ in not liking you. You want me to like you? Prove you're worth forgiving. Otherwise, you're just another self-important jock who thinks 'turning over a new leaf' means pretending you never did anything wrong and that everyone should just forget anything ever happened."

"Okay!" Kurt interjected hastily. "Anthony, it's nice to meet you. I look forward to kicking your butt at bowling on Sunday. Mercedes, stop browbeating Dave. I love you dearly, but if anyone gets to decide whether or not to forgive him, it's me, and I say he's forgiven. Dave, are you ready to head home, or do you need anything from your locker?"

"I'm good," Dave said.

"Why's he going home with you?" Mercedes asked.

"Long story," Kurt said. "See you Sunday?"

"Sure," she said, giving Kurt a brief hug. She crooked her finger at Rashad imperiously. "You can walk me to my locker."

Rashad grinned. "My pleasure, gorgeous."

"Your privilege," she corrected teasingly, and they strolled off arm in arm down the hall.

Kurt and Dave walked off in the opposite direction. "Oh, sweet baby Shiva, it's Friday," Kurt groaned. "I can't believe I forgot to tell you. Finn and Carole are coming to dinner tonight."

"Is it a family thing?" Dave asked. "Should I go over to someone else's place for the evening?"

"Yes to the first, no to the second," Kurt said. "Besides, you can't leave me to watch Twenty-Eight Days Later with Finn. I can't cling to him during the scary parts – he gets all weirded out about being touched by gay guys."

Dave frowned. "Are you guys okay? I mean, it seems like sometimes he's totally cool with you, and other times he's all twitchy and freaked out over you."

"It's kind of my fault," Kurt said as they stepped through the doors and into the outdoors. "I had a pretty big crush on him last year – I misinterpreted his holding my jacket for me before I got thrown into the dumpster as a sign that he cared about me." He held up a hand, forestalling Dave's response. "You don't have to say it. Just because he wasn't as bad as some bullies doesn't mean he wasn't a bully. I know this now."

"So what happened?" Dave asked.

"I played yenta and introduced my dad to his mother because I misguidedly thought that it would bring us closer together," Kurt said candidly. "And it did – disastrously so. He let me know in pretty unambiguous terms just how uncomfortable he was with the idea of sharing a room with him. Needless to say, he killed my crush on him pretty quickly. So now we just make nice, and I try not to inadvertently offend him or make him uncomfortable."

"That's pretty shitty of him," Dave said.

Kurt shook his head. "Not really. I mean, I get how being the object of the resident gay kid's affection could be creepy," he said bitterly.

Dave grabbed Kurt's elbow and stopped him before he could get into the car. "Hey. Don't – don't say stuff like that. I'm trying to get that kind of bullshit out of my head. You don't need to go putting it in yours. Besides, it was always a huge ego boost for Hudson when girls got crushes on him. You being a guy shouldn't have been any different to him."

Kurt looked at him, startled. After a long moment, he began to smile. "I like this side of you, Dave," he said, and gently pulled his arm from Dave's grip. "You should let it out more often."

"I think so, too," Dave said, and he smiled back hesitantly.

As they joined the line of cars waiting to leave the campus, a thought struck Dave. "So, hypothetically – am I saying that right?"

Kurt nodded and drove forward another three feet.

"Hypothetically, if there was a Gay-Straight Alliance at McKinley, would you join?"

"In a heartbeat," Kurt replied. "How about you?"

"I'm game if you are," Dave said.

Kurt gave him another dazzling Kurt Hummel smile, and Dave's heart skipped a beat. "We never really knew you, did we?"

"I guess not," Dave said. But he'd make sure that Kurt got the chance to really get to know him. It didn't matter if it took forever. He'd prove to Kurt that he was someone worth knowing.

He would.


	5. A Different Family Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The doorbell rang right as Kurt and Dave were putting their respective piles of homework away as they sat on the living room floor. The sound nearly made Dave jump out of his skin, but he restrained himself to a brief, barely noticeable twitch.

The doorbell rang right as Kurt and Dave were putting their respective piles of homework away as they sat on the living room floor. The sound nearly made Dave jump out of his skin, but he restrained himself to a brief, barely noticeable twitch.

Kurt gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. "That will be Carole and Finn. Relax. Finn's too scared of disappointing my dad to be anything but nice and Carole – bless her – is a sweetheart, for all that she's a walking fashion train wreck."

 _Not so unnoticeable, then._ "Are you sure it's okay for me to stay for dinner?" he asked for the tenth time since coming back to the Hummel's house. Every time, Kurt answered with a "yes," but Dave had an unshakeable feeling that the next time he asked the answer would change.

"Ask me that again and I will tell Carole that what you desperately need most in the world right now is to be mothered to death by a somewhat overbearing woman in a denim vest," Kurt said. "Yes, it's okay. It's more than okay. You live here, therefore you're invited to Friday night dinners."

"If you're sure," Dave said. He shrugged his shoulders, attempting to look unbothered by the situation. From the skeptical look Kurt gave him, he guessed he failed miserably.

Kurt met his eyes, looking unusually serious. "If you really feel uncomfortable, I'll tell Dad that I can't do dinner tonight and we can go somewhere else. But we want you to stay. Alright?"

"Alright," Dave said, unable to keep from smiling in relief. "Okay. I'll stay for dinner."

Kurt smiled back, and Dave's stomach did a somersault at the sight. "Good. Someone has to alleviate the weekly tedium that is family dinner night, and I'm appointing you to the position."

"Appointing?" Dave asked. "Don't I get a vote?"

"In a democratic society, sure," Kurt said, waving his hand as if to shoo the idea away. "But in Hummelvania I rule as an enlightened despot." He tilted his nose in the air snobbishly. "Bow before me, lowly peon."

Dave snorted with laughter, and Kurt's deadpan expression slipped as he broke down in giggles. "All hail King Kurt," Dave said, bowing from where he sat. "May his reign last a thousand years."

Kurt laughed harder at that, eyes shut tight and face flushed pink. Dave watched him, smiling, sure that he had the biggest, soppiest, goofiest grin on his face.

"Kurt, Dave," Burt called. "Finn and Carole are here. Come on out and join us."

Dave got to his feet and offered a hand to Kurt. "Better not keep 'em waiting," he said. Kurt took his hand and pulled himself upright, attempting to compose himself. "Deep breaths, Your Majesty," Dave advised, and this time it was Kurt who snorted with laughter, letting go of Dave's hand in favor of bracing himself against his shoulder.

"Stop," he gasped. "It's too much. How am I going to get through dinner like this?"

Dave put a tentative hand on Kurt's shoulder, gently steering him out into the front hall. "But Your Majesty," he protested, "I'm only doing your bidding."

Kurt cracked up, and as they walked into the hall Dave realized that he was completely at ease, and it was entirely Kurt's doing. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" he asked quietly as they drew closer to Finn, Carole, and Burt. Kurt, still trying to get his giggles under control, just winked, and Dave felt a tremendous rush of gratitude.

He looked up into Finn's face and nearly started laughing again. His teammate looked like he'd just found himself in a bizarre parallel universe where nothing made sense. "What's so –" he started to say, eyes wide with shock.

"Dave, honey, how are you?" Carole cut in. She smiled sympathetically. "I know this must be difficult for you. Are you alright?"

"Sort of yes and sort of no," Dave admitted, feeling a phantom pang in his heart at her question. He'd gone for nearly half an hour without thinking about why he was at Kurt's house until she'd brought it up. "It's hard to deal with being kicked out, but it'd be way worse if Burt 'n Kurt hadn't let me stay here. I'd probably be sleeping in my truck or something."

"Not on our watch," Burt said firmly.

"I'm sorry that happened, dude," Finn said. "That really sucks."

Dave nodded, unsure of what to say. It felt like every time he turned around he was either apologizing or thanking someone. _But for good reasons._ He sighed and smiled tiredly at Finn. "Thanks."

"Let's sit down and eat," Carole suggested, perhaps sensing the awkwardness between Dave and her son. "I hope you like grilled chicken, Dave."

"Yeah," Dave said. "That's fine with me." He followed everyone into the dining room, hanging back a bit to see where he was supposed to sit. Burt and Carole sat at the ends of the table, Burt at the farther end and Carole at the nearer. And Finn and Kurt took seats across from each other on the sides. That left two chairs, and he dithered for a moment before seeing that the seat between Kurt and Carole had a place setting in front of it. With an internal sigh of relief, he took his seat.

"Salad, Dave?" Kurt offered, serving himself a large portion as he spoke. He didn't wait for an answer before adding a decent-sized mound of lettuce and mixed vegetables to Dave's plate.

Carole forked a plump chicken thigh onto Dave's plate. "Have some chicken, honey," she said. "You too, Kurt. You really need to eat more."

Dave passed the platter to Kurt, who snagged a breast for himself and passed the rest on to Burt, who was passing a bowl of seasoned rice to Finn. "And you need to actually have salad tonight," Burt told Finn. "Apparently you can't live off carbs and grease alone." Kurt beamed at his dad.

"Is there ranch dressing?" Finn asked as he heaped rice onto half his plate.

"It already has a vinaigrette dressing on it," Kurt said. "And no. I threw out the ranch weeks ago."

Finn pulled a sour face, but handed the rice bowl to Kurt and grabbed the salad bowl. "Not cool, dude."

"For the thousandth time, Finn, don't call me dude." Kurt added a modest scoop of rice to his plate.

"Not enough, Kurt," Carole said, and it was Kurt's turn to look disgruntled as he grudgingly took another spoonful before giving the bowl to Dave.

"So, boys," Burt said as they started in on their dinner, "Tell me about your day."

"Mr. Schue handed back our tests in Spanish today," Finn said. "I got a B minus."

"Finn, that's wonderful," Carole said. "Good job!"

Finn brightened at the praise. "I paired up with Mercedes to study, and she uses these flash cards that she makes for each unit. It was pretty helpful. And Rachel and I brainstormed some ideas for our next Glee rehearsal during lunch."

"Great job," Burt said. "Kurt? Dave?"

"Ms. Fairbanks was shocked that my geometry homework had no mistakes," Kurt said dryly.

"Ditto Mrs. Borchard and my essay," Dave said.

"We finished our translation in French."

"And Mme. Warren liked it so much she wants us to read it to the class on Monday."

Dave and Kurt looked at each other, Dave with resignation and Kurt with excitement. Across the table, Finn was wearing his Twilight Zone look again.

"All the boys had to run laps in gym today while Mr. Landreth taught the girls self-defense," Kurt said.

"Miss Pillsbury called me into her office to see how I was doing," Dave said. "I, um. I didn't think my mom would have my mailing address changed so quickly."

"That was my doing," Burt said. "When I went to get your stuff, they didn't seem to have any plan in place for you besides, well." He coughed. "So I told 'em that if they weren't going to have you living there, they oughta have the decency to let the school send your records to the right address."

Dave was too stunned to say anything. Burt seemed to get it, though, and nodded at him kindly.

"Anything else in your day, kids?"

"Rachel told me she wants to start a GSA," Finn said. He looked at Kurt and smiled tentatively. "I'd join, if you were okay with it."

"Why?" Kurt blurted out. "Are you being blackmailed into it?"

"Kurt!" Burt scolded.

"No, no," Finn said. "He's got a good reason to ask." He took a deep breath and looked at Kurt earnestly. "We're practically family and, well, I haven't been a good brother. I let people get away with pushing you around at school, and I haven't stood up to my friends when they talk shi – er, badmouth you. I guess being popular meant more to me than doing the right thing. And it shouldn't, and I'm sorry. I'm going to do better from now on, I promise."

Kurt stared at Finn in shock. After a long, uncomfortable silence, Dave knocked his knee against Kurt's under the table, and Kurt finally blinked. "I accept your apology. Yes, if there is a Gay-Straight Alliance started at school, you'd be more than welcome to join."

"Yeah," Dave said. "That'd be cool."

Kurt and Finn were too busy smiling at each other to notice the significant look that Burt and Carole exchanged, but Dave caught it. _I wonder what that's about?_

Kurt's phone beeped, and he pulled it out to read the text message. Dave snuck a look over his shoulder. _"I hope you had a great week,"_ it said. _"Remember, be true to yourself and don't let anyone get you down."_

"No cell phones at the dinner table, Kurt," Burt said wearily. Dave got the feeling that Burt had said it a hundred times before.

"That from Blaine?" he asked as Kurt guiltily turned his phone off and stuck it back in his pocket.

"Yes. He's just checking in."

"Who's Blaine?" Carole asked. "How did you meet?"

"We met a few weeks ago," Kurt said. "He's a member of the glee club at Dalton Academy."

Burt raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't answer the question. How did you meet, exactly?"

"It was that week we were doing boys versus girls mashups again," Kurt said. He looked at Dave. "You know, that week where we, um, had that talk in the locker room."

"Oh." Dave looked down at his plate, pretending that his salad was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. From beneath his lowered eyelashes he could see Finn doing the same.

"After a couple of the other guys in Glee explained to me that I was uniquely suited to undertake an espionage mission at Dalton, I took the opportunity to scope out the competition to see what we were up against. It turned out that I was a pretty horrible spy, but Blaine and a couple of seniors apparently found me adorable and invited me to get coffee with them in the student lounge. Blaine gave me a little life advice, we traded cell phone numbers, and I went on my merry way." Kurt's light, casual delivery was perfect, but while Carole and Burt might have been sold, Finn and Dave were well acquainted enough with the events of the week to read between the lines.

Someone – multiple someones, and Dave could guess who – had told Kurt he would fit right in at Dalton because he was gay. And Blaine's life advice was probably the reason Kurt had come after him in the locker room that day.

"So that's why you, uh, came to talk to me in the locker room?" Dave asked. Kurt nodded. "That – Jesus, Kurt. That was horrible advice."

"It worked out fine in the end, didn't it?" Kurt said defensively. "And he had the best of intentions."

"Best of intentions or not, what was he thinking?" Dave asked. "Better yet, what were _you_ thinking? Do you get how wrong that could have gone? I mean, what if – what if I'd done what you were telling me to do?"

Kurt looked at him skeptically. "Be honest. Were you really going to?"

Dave opened his mouth to answer, then closed it thoughtfully. "No," he said slowly. "I wouldn't have."

"I knew that," Kurt said. "You never did anything unless you had an audience."

 _I didn't know he could read me that well._ "Yeah, pretty much. But – I'm sorry for how it went, anyway. And it was still terrible advice."

"I'm missing something here," Carole said. "Will someone please fill me in?"

Kurt, Finn, and Dave looked at each other uncomfortably, and before any of them could work up the nerve to say anything, Burt spoke up. "A couple of guys in the Glee club were picking on Kurt, so he took off instead of sticking around to listen to more. A kid at Dalton told Kurt that he could either transfer to a different school to get away from the bullying or he could go back and confront his bullies – which, by the way, Kurt, was really bad advice. Dave here, who was bullying Kurt as of, what, two weeks ago? He started in on Kurt again, and this time Kurt chased after him to confront him in the locker room. Things apparently came to a head between them, and Dave, for the most part, laid off after that."

"You bullied Kurt?" Carole asked. She looked at him with a mixture of disapproval and concern.

"Starting around second semester last year," Burt said. "And up until _first_ semester last year, Finn and Puck had been bullying Kurt since middle school."

Dave and Finn looked at Burt in shock. "What?" he said gruffly. "You think I don't talk to my son? I know what goes on in his life."

"Finnegan Joseph Hudson, I am so ashamed of you," Carole said quietly. "That is not how I raised you to act."

"Please, Carole," Kurt interceded, "Don't take Finn to task now. It's been a long time. We've mended things between us pretty well."

"Why did you even let me inside your house?" Dave asked, stunned. _Burt knew? Burt knew and he gave me a home anyway?_ "You had every reason to slam the door in my face."

"I'm not heartless, son," Burt said. "Finn's a fine boy, and he was in your shoes once. People need second chances. Without them, they'd just give up on life."

"When I came home after school on Challenge Day, I told Dad what happened," Kurt said to Dave. "I also mentioned that I was worried that things might not go so well when you came out to your family."

"We weren't expecting you to show up that night," Burt said, "But if things had gone south for you we were ready to step in."

"I don't deserve this," Dave mumbled, turning his gaze back toward his mostly empty plate in shame.

Under the table, Kurt took his hand and gave it a brief, hard squeeze before letting go. "You don't get a say in it."

A companionable, sympathetic silence fell around the dinner table. Carole patted Dave's other hand kindly and stood up with her plate in hand. "Burt, will you help me with the dishes?"

"I'd love to lend a hand," he said. "Why don't you boys go watch that zombie movie you were talking about?"

"Sound great," Finn said hastily, pushing away from the table. Dave and Kurt quickly followed suit. They were apparently just as eager as Dave was to leave the heavy conversation behind to escape into a movie.

They settled into the expansive couch, Kurt bracketed by Dave and Finn. Dave reached up and turned the table lamp off, darkening the room so that the only light came from the hall.

"Did you bring it?" Kurt asked.

Finn nodded and pulled two DVDs minus their cases out of his letterman jacket. "I brought Twenty-Eight Days Later, but I was thinking that it's not really a zombie movie. I mean, we can watch it, but I brought Shaun of the Dead just in case."

"Hmm. I'm in favor of an actual zombie movie," Kurt said. He turned to Dave. "What do you think?"

"I love Shaun of the Dead," Dave said. "It's hilarious."

"Looks like it's unanimous," Kurt said. He nudged Finn less than gently. "Go set it up, Frankenteen."

"Aye aye, Cap'n," Finn said sarcastically. He heaved himself out of the far-too-comfortable couch and went to eject the DVD of Music Man. He quickly put in his own DVD and collapsed back onto the couch with a contented sigh. "We should have one of these in every room of the house," he said blissfully.

"No argument here," Dave said. "This might just be more comfortable than the foldout sofa in the study."

Kurt looked at Finn and hesitated for a moment. Dave watched as Kurt straightened his shoulders, apparently having come to some sort of decision. Then Kurt leaned across Finn to grab the remote from the end table. For a split second, Finn stiffened. Then he deliberately relaxed, and when Kurt was settled back in his seat with the remote in his hand, he gave Kurt an easygoing smile. "Movie time?"

"Less talking, more zombies," Kurt agreed, and clicked the remote.

As the opening scene of the movie began to play, Dave's mind began to wander. How had he managed to be so unbelievably lucky? It seemed like for every bad thing that had happened to him, something wonderful happened to balance it out. He bullied Kurt, Kurt forgave him. He came out at school, he actually made new friends. His parents – his parents threw him out, and Burt Hummel of all people took him in and made him feel welcome. It seemed so impossible.

He snuck a glance at Kurt. He'd gotten a crush on him last year for being cute and brave and talented, and he'd known with absolute certainty that the closest that he'd ever get to Kurt was when he shoved him into lockers. But then.

But then. Then Kurt just had to not only be cute and brave and talented. He had to be witty and compassionate and forgiving, and now any chance he had of getting over his crush was utterly hopeless.

Kurt poked his bicep. "You're thinking too loudly," he whispered. "Just kick back and watch the movie, will you?"

"Shush!" Finn said.

Kick back and watch the movie? He could do that. But his attention was split the entire time between Simon Pegg's unconventional zombie killing techniques and the feeling of Kurt's arm pressed against his in the darkened living room.

Yeah. It was hopeless.


	6. Strikes, Spares, and Fresh Starts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bowling alley was already near maximum capacity by the time Dave and Kurt arrived, and they both had to go on their tiptoes to see across the crowded lobby. "I think I see them," Dave said, pointing. "Over on lane six."

The bowling alley was already near maximum capacity by the time Dave and Kurt arrived, and they both had to go on their tiptoes to see across the crowded lobby. "I think I see them," Dave said, pointing. "Over on lane six."

Kurt grinned. "Mercedes!" he yelled. "We're here!"

At his shout, Rashad jumped up on one of the chairs and waved his arms. "Get over here!" he called to them, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet.

"Give us a minute!" Dave shouted back. He turned to Kurt. "You want to head over while I pay for our shoes?"

Kurt shook his head. "Save your money," he said. "Go say hi and try not to do that thing where you look guilty and nervous around my friends. Mercedes can smell fear from a mile away, and she will give you hell if she thinks you'll sit back and let her tear strips off your hide."

"What if that's part of what she meant by proving I'm worth forgiving?" Dave asked. "And your friends don't make me nervous."

"She might have a vindictive streak, but she doesn't want you to be miserable," Kurt said. "She wants you to just keep being nice. And my friends do make you nervous, you liar."

"Maybe a little," Dave admitted. At Kurt's dubious look, he said, "Okay, more than a little. Can you blame me?"

"I could," Kurt said. "But I won't. Now tell me your shoe size and go join our friends."

"I'm going, I'm going," Dave said, holding up his hands in mock-defensiveness. "And I wear twelves."

He squirmed his way through the crush of bodies, tripping twice on people's feet before getting to their lane. "Hey," he said, taking the seat nearest the stairs. _Act calm and friendly to Tina and Mercedes. I can do that._

"Hey back," Rashad said with a bright grin. He held out his hand expectantly, and Dave reached up to slap his palm and bump fists. "Welcome to the madhouse, amigo."

"It is kinda crazy in here, isn't it?" Dave said. "Mike, hey. Tina, Mercedes, good to see you."

"Um, hi," Tina said tightly. Mercedes didn't say anything. She just raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow and pinned him with a cool stare.

"Evening," Chang said amiably. "How's life treating you?"

"It's been different," Dave said. "But whatever. Hope you brought your A game tonight man, 'cause I am going to wipe the floor with you."

Tina let out a small "eep!" and Chang looked over at her reassuringly. "He means that in a figurative way, babe." He turned back to Dave with a confident smirk. "If I recall correctly, the last time the varsity players came here together, _I_ kicked _your_ butt."

"By two points," Dave protested. "Rashad, back me up here."

Rashad laughed and shook his head. "Leave me out of this. The only thing I remember about the score was that I was grateful I wasn't as god-awful as Hudson."

Dave and Chang exchanged mirthful glances, and with unspoken agreement, they burst into song.

"Finny, Fiiiiiinny Hudson, king of the wild gutter balls!"

Tina giggled. "Is that why Finn never wants to come with us on bowling nights?" she asked.

"It's not so much that's he's awful," Chang said. "It's that we kept threatening to write verses to go with the chorus if we had to endure the sight of him sending his ball down the gutter turn after turn."

"We got as far as 'Came to the bowling alley one afternoon, thought he'd get a strike but let go too soon,'" Dave added. "We stopped after he managed to knock a pin over, though."

"We should work on it again," Chang said.

"We definitely should," Dave agreed.

"Should what?" asked Kurt, dropping two pairs of eye-searingly ugly shoes onto the seat beside Dave.

"Continue writing our amazing ode to Finn's complete lack of bowling skills," Chang said. "I can't think of anything better to do with my time."

"Sounds like a project with merit," Kurt said. "Let me know if you want my input. Dave, check and see which shoes are yours, please. I was so busy trying not to look at them that I forgot which ones where which."

Dave obediently picked up a green and orange shoe and lifted the tongue to read the size. "This is a ten." He handed it and the matching shoe to Kurt. That left him the red, white and blue ones that looked like the spirit of Americana kitsch had barfed on them.

Kurt looked at them with great distaste before reluctantly pulling off his boots and slipping on the bowling shoes. "Ew."

"Could be worse," Rashad said sympathetically. He lifted his leg up to show them the lurid pink and green thing that had eaten his foot. Kurt shuddered.

"So how do we want to play this?" Kurt asked. "Every man –"

"Or woman," Mercedes interrupted.

"Or woman," Kurt agreed, "For himself –"

"Or herself," Tina added.

"Or herself?" Kurt finished. "Or do we want to play in pairs?"

"Can we have cool team names if we play in pairs?" Rashad asked. "Because if we can, that pretty much decides it for me."

"Sounds good to me," Tina said. "Mercedes? Kurt?"

They looked at each other and nodded. "We're in," they said together in that weird way that some best friends can speak.

"Just don't name my team after a sex toy or something and I'm good," Dave said.

Chang grinned. "Awesome! I pick Tina!"

"I'm with Anthony," Mercedes said immediately.

"I woulda picked you anyway," Dave told Kurt, relieved that there wasn't any sign of disappointment on his face.

Rashad made bambi eyes at Mercedes. "Can we be the Potter Puppet Pals?" he begged.

"How is that a cool name?" she demanded.

"How is that _not_ cool?" he countered. "Come on. Live a little."

She huffed and crossed her arms, but her eyes were laughing. "If it really means that much to you."

"In that case, let's be Team Chad Vader!" Tina said excitedly.

"That's my geek," Chang said fondly.

The four of them turned to Dave and Kurt expectantly with anticipatory grins.

Kurt gave him a wicked smile, and Dave knew immediately what he was thinking. "No."

"It would be perfect," Kurt said.

Dave sighed. "You think we should?" He felt more than a little uneasy with the idea. It was hard enough acting like he had no problem being out. It was too soon for him to crack jokes at his own expense – but Kurt looked so hopeful, so delighted at the potential name, and making Kurt happy was sometimes even better than staying in his comfort zone.

"Oh, I really, really do," Kurt told him firmly.

"In that case," Dave said, "Why the hell not? Team Double Rainbow it is."

TEAOMAL

As the pins scattered in the wake of Dave's bowling ball on Dave's last turn, Rashad, acting as the unofficial announcer, said in an excellent mimicry of a sportscaster's voice, "And Double Rainbow takes the lead once again thanks to the superb hand-eye coordination of star bowler David Karofsky! Double Rainbow and Chad Vader are neck and neck in this intense battle for bowling domination and bragging rights. It looks like Potter Puppet Pals just don't stand a chance against –"

"Your turn," Dave interrupted him, walking back to their seats. "And thanks for the ego boost."

He sat down next to Kurt, hoping that having his crush as a buffer between him and Kurt's friend Tina would be enough to put her at ease. "Hear that, Mike?" he asked humorously, leaning around Kurt to taunt his teammate. "Chad Vader's ass is getting kicked."

"That's your definition of an ass-kicking?" Chang retorted. "Just wait until we're up next. I bet you Tina and I will get at least two strikes between the two of us."

Dave laughed. "Yeah? Then why don't you put your money where your mouth is, hotshot?"

"Loser buys the first round of sodas next bowling night?" Chang suggested.

"Deal," Dave said. He reached across Kurt and Tina to shake Chang's hand firmly. He didn't fail to notice that Tina shrank back into the seat as his arm passed her by.

Apparently Kurt hadn't, either. "Speaking of drinks, I'm in desperate need of an iced tea," he said, standing up abruptly. "Mike? Have you suddenly developed a craving for sweets?"

Chang looked confused. "I don't think I have," he said.

"Mike," Kurt said impatiently. "You have developed a sudden craving for sweets and need to make a run to the concessions stand with me."

"Oh!" Chang said. He grinned and stood up as well. "Y'know, I've been seriously jonesing for some Sour Patch Kids all evening."

Tina looked up at her boyfriend with wide eyes, her fingers knitted together tightly in her lap. "Mike," she said nervously.

"He's not going to kill you, Tina," Kurt said reassuringly. "And in the extremely unlikely circumstance that he attempts to, Mike will valiantly come to your rescue and knock him out with a bowling ball."

"Exactly," Chang said. He leaned down and touched his nose to hers, smiling softly.

Tina smiled back reluctantly. "Asian promise?"

Chang chuckled. "Asian promise." He gave her a quick peck on the lips.

"Mercedes?" Kurt asked, looking across the small carpeted area to where she was sitting and watching Dave with an unreadable look on her face. "Will you join us?"

"I'm up next," she said, shaking her head. "And no offense, Kurt, but I'd rather keep your new pal where I can see him."

"I'll just get you a Dr. Pepper, then," Kurt said, and he and Mike walked up the stairs toward the concessions stand together.

Dave tried not to quail under Mercedes' scrutiny, turning instead to Tina. She looked back at him warily, and he realized that while Kurt's advice was probably perfect for handling Mercedes, something else was called for with Tina. _Time for a little honesty._ "Kurt told me not to act nervous around you," he said softly, pulling his shoulders in a bit in an attempt to look less intimidating. "But I gotta say, I really am."

"You? Nervous?" Tina asked, startled. "Of me? Why?"

Across the aisle, Rashad sat down next to Mercedes, and as she stood to take her turn she looked her date in the eye and said sternly, "Don't let him do anything to Tina." He threw her a sloppy salute and jokingly pointed at his eyes before pointing at Dave.

Dave tuned out the byplay and focused on Tina. "Because I was an asshole," he said. "I picked on you because you had what I wasn't brave enough to get: Kurt's friendship. And you matter to Kurt, and I'm trying – I swear, I'm really trying. And it's okay if you don't forgive me, or if you want nothing to do with me. I'm not gonna start pushing you around again. I just – I'm really sorry. And I've been saying that to a lot of people lately, but you really deserve an apology. So I'm sorry."

"I don't get what Kurt sees in you," Tina said frankly. She drew back a little, seemingly shocked at her boldness, but when Dave didn't react she went on. "But Kurt is one of my best friends, and if he thinks that you have a good side, then I'm willing to try to see what he sees."

He gave her a tiny, sincere smile. "Thanks. Thanks a lot."

"I don't know if you remember," she said, "But I stood next to you on Challenge Day."

"I remember," Dave told her. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "And I remember being a dick to you."

"And I remember you coming out and making everyone realize that you're as human as the rest of us," Tina said. "But what I meant was do you want to try that again?"

He stared at her, dumbfounded, and she looked away. "I know it's silly," she said. "Never mind."

"No!" he said quickly. "That's – I'd like that. It's just. Kurt has really great friends, you know that?"

She shrugged and smiled. "Yep. So – hi."

"Hi," he said back, smiling like an idiot.

"I'm Tina," she continued.

"Hi, Tina," Dave said. "I'm Dave."

Tina let out a small giggle, her eyes dancing. "It's nice to meet you, Dave."

"It's nice to meet you, too," he said.

"That is just so sweet," Rashad commented, clasping his hands beneath his chin and batting his eyelashes at them. "Too adorable for words, that's what you are." Despite the teasing, he looked genuinely happy, and there was a gentle undertone to his joking words.

Dave blushed. "Anyone ever tell you it's not polite to eavesdrop?" he asked.

"It's been mentioned once or twice," Rashad said. "But I have to keep my Nosy Parker skills in fighting shape just to get an edge over that foxy lady who invited me out to this entertaining outing."

"Foxy, hmm?" Mercedes said, sitting back down beside Rashad.

He took her hand and interlocked their fingers. "And sexy, and fierce, and gorgeous, and funny, and all around awesome," he told her, laying his head on her shoulder to look up into her face with a winning smile.

"Keep it up and you might get a second date," she said, laughing.

"Be good to my girl, Anthony," Kurt said as he and Chang rejoined them. "You break her heart and I'll cut your brake line." He set the overloaded tray of drinks down on the small table in the center of the chairs and snagged two cups, handing one to Mercedes before retaking his seat between Dave and Tina. "Your Dr. Pepper, my dear."

"Thank you, boo," Mercedes said, flashing him an enormous smile that spoke volumes about the depth of their friendship. "And if he does, I'll hold you too that."

Chang tossed a gummy into the air and caught it in his mouth. "Time to show Team Double Rainbow who's the boss," he said.

"Two strikes between the two of you, remember," Dave said.

"Cake walk," Chang said, leaving their circle once more to take his turn.

Mercedes cleared her throat. "So I never got an answer," she said, looking hard at Dave. "Why did you go home with Kurt on Friday?"

"I would have thought the story had hit the Glee gossip chain already," Kurt said. "Finn can't keep anything from Rachel, and lord knows that girl couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it."

"She's not that bad," Tina said. "Just because ninety-five percent of the time she acts like tact and discretion are foreign concepts to her doesn't mean she can't be tactful and discreet when it's important."

"True," Kurt conceded.

"No, I haven't heard a word from Miss Blabbermouth or anyone else – though apparently both Santana and Brittany have the twenty-four hour flu," Mercedes said with a smirk. "But seriously. Why?"

Kurt hesitated. "You don't have to say why if you don't want to," he told Dave.

"I know," Dave said. He really didn't want to tell her, or anyone else for that matter. The more people he told, the more real it got. But still, it was Kurt's best friend, and Kurt wouldn't be best friends with her if she wasn't a good person. He just hoped she wouldn't pity him. Pity was awful. "But it's going to come out eventually, and it's not like it's a secret."

"Any day now," Mercedes said when Dave stopped to gather his thoughts.

"Sorry. I'm living with Kurt. My folks kicked me out."

Rashad swore angrily. "That's – fucking hell. That's just not right," he said, looking pissed off on Dave's behalf.

"I think I must have misheard you," Mercedes said flatly, "Because I could swear you just said you were living with Kurt, which is insane, and Burt would have to be out of his mind to let you set foot on their property."

"Stop, Mercedes," Kurt said tiredly. "Dad's not crazy, and I'm not either. Dave really is living with us. You weren't at Challenge Day, so I don't expect you to understand why I've forgiven Dave, but I would hope that you'd trust me to have a good reason."

The stubborn look on Mercedes' face softened marginally. "I do trust you," she said. "But you know how I feel about those jerks who give you hell at school."

"It's one of the many reasons I love you," Kurt said. "Just – try for me? Please?"

"If anyone else were asking," Mercedes said in resignation, but she smiled softly at Kurt and gave Dave a thoughtful look that – finally – lacked hostility. "Okay. I'll try for you."

There was a note of dread in Tina's voice when she spoke up. "How long?" she asked. She looked like she'd already guessed the answer from the anxious frown on her face.

"Since Wednesday night," Dave said, and they all winced.

"So, you came out to them after you came out at school," Tina said softly, "And it didn't go well."

"My choices were to admit I was straight and apologize for worrying them, or to get out of their house," Dave said. "So I got out of their house. And, well, here I am."

Chang walked back over with a spring in his step, looking pleased with himself. "Strike and a spare," he boasted, sprawling out in the chair beside Dave. When no one said anything, he looked around at all the sober faces and said, "I missed something important, didn't I?"

"I'll catch you up later," Tina said, standing and smoothing down the front of her dress. She looked at Dave uncertainly for a second and then nodded to herself and bent down to give him a quick hug. He was too surprised to even lift his arms to reciprocate, and before he could blink, she was striding off to pick up her bowling ball.

Chang looked at him in bewilderment. "What was that about?"

"Later," Mercedes told him. "Let's just watch Tina kick Kurt and Dave's butts."

"I'm down with that," Rashad said. "There's always time to be serious later."

"Not that I particularly want to see Tina demolish Team Double Rainbow, but I have to agree with Anthony," Kurt said. "Serious can wait."

Kurt patted Dave's knee reassuringly, and Dave had to smile. It was exactly like he'd told Tina – Kurt had really, really great friends. He looked across the table and saw Rashad giving him a sympathetic look. As soon as he noticed that Dave had seen his expression, he turned his attention to Tina and grinned.

Well. Dave had a couple really great friends, too.

They all craned their necks to see Tina getting into position at the head of the lane. She swung her arm back –

"Come on, Tina!" Mercedes cheered quietly.

Brought it swiftly forward –

"Kick their butts, babe," Chang said under his breath.

And let it slide from her fingertips at exactly the right moment, sending the ball hurtling down the lane in a nearly perfectly straight trajectory toward the center pin.

Kurt covered his eyes. "I can't watch. Tell me when our humiliation is complete."

The ball hit the pins with a resounding crash, sending them all scattering into the darkness behind the lane.

"It is now," Dave said, groaning. Tina shrieked, and they all got to their feet and applauded furiously.

Chang smirked at him. "Like I said. Cake walk. And you are buying us all sodas next time."

As Tina charged back over to jump into Chang's arms while the machine set up the pins again and spat out her bowling ball, Dave couldn't really bring himself to care that he'd be losing a chunk of his limited pocket change. Not if it meant he could keep having nights like these.

* * *

If you don't know about Harry Potter Puppet Pals, Chad Vader, or Double Rainbow, kudos to you. The internet has yet to consume your life.

So, happy chapter! Let me know what you think: how's my characterization? Is it still engaging? Am I selling it convincingly? Or just give me flowery praise - I like that.


	7. And the Other, Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sun was unusually bright Monday morning when Dave and Kurt hopped out of his truck in the school parking lot. Kurt slipped on a sleek pair of dark sunglasses and pulled his coat more snugly around his torso.

The sun was unusually bright Monday morning when Dave and Kurt hopped out of his truck in the school parking lot. Kurt slipped on a sleek pair of dark sunglasses and pulled his coat more snugly around his torso.

"It's too chilly to be so sunny," Kurt said grumpily. "Nature is toying with us."

"You're telling me," Dave agreed, squinting his eyes against the glare. "We'll be out from under it soon enough, though. I've gotta go impress Borchard with my awesome new English skills."

"And I with Mrs. Fairbanks," Kurt said. "I'm fairly certain she thinks I've made a deal with the devil in exchange for homework answers."

Dave patted the top of his head. "No horns. You're good."

Kurt laughed. "See you in French."

"I'll save you a seat," Dave said. He set off for the English hall with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

A familiar heavyset figure lounging outside the double doors caught his eye, and at Dave's approach, Azimio pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against and strolled over, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. "Hey," he said casually.

"Hey yourself," Dave said cautiously.

"Good weekend?" Azimio asked.

Dave smiled slightly at the memory of the night before. "Pretty good, yeah." He eyed his best friend curiously – he didn't seem angry, and he was always the kind of guy who wore his heart on his sleeve. Something had happened between Thursday afternoon and this morning, and whatever it was, he wasn't stupid enough to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth. _Not gonna question my good luck._ "Yours?"

Azimio shrugged. "Not bad. Sat around and thought a lot. Played Halo."

"Oh," Dave said, and his heart rose in his chest as relief flooded through him. He thought a moment. "You didn't play on my account, did you?"

"Hell no," Azimio said, looking offended at the very idea. "What kind of asshole do you take me for? No faith, man. No faith." He clapped Dave on the back and pushed open the door to the hall, shoving Dave lightly ahead of him.

"English?" Dave asked.

"English," Azimio said with a grimace. "With the Cryptkeeper."

Dave choked back a laugh. Mr. Holbrook was so old he had one foot in the grave already, and he was infamous for his complete lack of a sense of humor. "Ever call him that to his face?"

"Once, in class," Azimio said. "His hearing's almost gone. Fossil didn't even blink."

"Doesn't surprise me," Dave said, shaking his head in amusement.

"That the Cryptkeeper is nearly deaf?" Azimio asked. "Or that I did it?"

"Both," Dave said, laughing.

He winced in pain as a hard jab was delivered to his side. "Ow! What the hell?" he cried out, looking around for the culprit.

"You never called us," Santana accused, stabbing her finger into his ribs again. She and Brittany blocked his path, both of them out of uniform and dressed warmly in jeans and stylish knit sweaters, their hands clasped together tightly. They looked like death warmed over, but they seemed incredibly happy despite the dark circles under their eyes. Well. Brittany looked incredibly happy, and Santana looked smugly pleased with herself, which Dave supposed passed for ecstatic where she was concerned.

 _Wait. Back up._ They were holding hands. Maybe it was just the two of them being their touchy-feely selves, but he had a feeling it was otherwise. For all his lingering insecurities, Dave couldn't help but feel envious at the sight of such a clear declaration of a relationship. _I want that someday._

"And you had the flu," Dave said. "So it's not like Breadstix woulda happened anyway."

"And that makes it okay to blow off my invitation?" Santana asked. "I was planning on splitting the bill, but you can forget it. You can foot the bill when we go."

"You had the flu," Dave said again. "And you coulda called Kurt." Santana sniffed, unimpressed.

"Hold up," Azimio said slowly. "Are you two…together?"

Santana glanced down pointedly in between her body and Brittany's, where their joined hands were holding tight to one another. "Looks that way, doesn't it?"

Brittany nodded. "We've always been together. Santana used to say it was okay because it didn't count with girls, but now she says boys don't matter and it should just be us." She looked at Santana and gave her a sweet smile. "I think that makes more sense. Don't you?" she asked Dave.

Dave manfully resisted the urge to hug her and ruffle her hair. Dumb or not, Brittany was one of the most genuinely nice people at the school, and he was quickly developing a soft spot for her. "Yeah. It makes a lot of sense," he said.

Azimio nodded sagely in agreement with Dave. "Makes tons of sense. And that's how you both –"

"Got the flu?" Santana said with a lecherous smirk. "What do you think?"

"I think we should have stayed home," Brittany said dreamily. "We could have had more Buffy marathons and sweet lady kisses."

"Sounds like a great weekend," Dave said. "Y' know. Aside from having the flu."

Someone shoved him roughly from behind, and he had to grab Azimio's shoulder to falling onto Brittany. "Watch it!" he snapped as Ben Girardi, the wiry brunet halfback on the varsity team, swaggered past.

Girardi turned around and took in Dave, Santana and Brittany with a contemptuous glance. "Fucking queers," he sneered, and turned to walk way. Dave flinched, and Santana pulled Brittany closer to her, flushing with anger. _Probably been waiting since practice Thursday to say something like that,_ Dave thought unhappily. _Looks like Kurt was right. And he had to do it in front of Azimio. What if this makes him change his mind again? What if –_

Before he or Santana could think of a good comeback, Azimio reached out lightning-fast and grabbed the back of Girardi's collar, dragging him back over to where they were standing.

"Hey there, asshole," he said pleasantly. "Didn't your mama ever teach you manners?"

"Lemme go," Girardi wheezed.

"I think you should try that again," he said in that same pleasant voice. "Repeat after me: Good morning, everyone. I'm a dumbass and I say stupid shit without thinking things through."

Girardi struggled to free himself from Azimio's iron grip. "Lemme go, fucker!"

"No," Azimio said implacably. "Say it."

"Good morning, everyone. I'm a – a dumbass and I – I say stupid shit without thinking things through," Girardi parroted with a sick look on his face.

"Because you are all way out of my league and it makes me feel like the pathetic loser that I am," Azimio prompted again, giving Girardi's collar a shake to drive the message home.

"Because you are all way out of my league," Girardi said sourly, glaring at Azimio, "And it makes me feel like the pathetic loser that I am."

Azimio smiled condescendingly and let Girardi go. "That's much better," he said, patting Girardi heavily on the shoulder and making the would-be bully's knees buckle.

Aiming a final heavy scowl at all of them, Girardi slouched off, cursing violently to himself.

Dave looked at Azimio incredulously. "Where did that come from?"

"I got your back, bro," he said, shrugging as if it was no big deal. "Always. You know that."

"I would just like to say that it's nice having the muscle on our side for once." Santana said, the angry flush leaving her face as she smirked at Girardi's retreating back. "That was awesome."

"Seriously?" Dave asked his friend. "Did you just do that or am I still asleep?"

"Like I said, I did a lot of thinking," Azimio said. He grinned unexpectedly. "And I can't let that jackass steal my role of 'school badass' from me. I worked hard to earn that rep."

"Secret's out of the bag now," Santana told him. "Word's going to get out that you're a big softy who just likes to pretend he's a grade A asshole."

"Don't go spreading lies about me, now," he told her with a laugh. The two minute warning bell rang, and Santana groaned.

"Off to face the Cryptkeeper."

"Ladies, may I escort you to our doom?" Azimio asked politely, and Brittany tucked her spare hand into the crook of his arm.

"I don't like being doomed," she said. "But you're okay! Between you and Dave and San I don't think we _can_ be doomed."

Azimio looked charmed, and as she and Santana began to walk off with him down the hall, he called over his shoulder, "Catch you in French, man."

"See you there," Dave replied, and headed off to Borchard's class shaking his head in amazement. He should have known his best friend wouldn't let him down.

TEAOMAL

"I can't believe Warren actually made you perform that speech," Azimio said as they shoved their French binders into their backpacks, waiting for the crowd at the door to clear. Kurt sat on top of a desk two seats ahead of them, book bag already slung across his chest.

"I know, man," Dave said. He hoisted his backpack onto one shoulder and started walking toward the door, privately pleased when Kurt got to his feet as well. "I'm not a public speaker at all. Not like you," he added, smiling at Kurt.

"What can I say?" Kurt asked. He reached the door first and held it open for Dave and Azimio. "Some people are just meant for the spotlight."

"You and that Berry chick are something else, Hummel," Azimio said.

"Thank you," Kurt said coolly. "I like to think so."

It was both surreal and awkward walking to the cafeteria with Kurt on his left and Azimio on his right. On the one hand, having them both within arm's reach without violence or insults being involved was like Christmas had come early for him. But on the other, the tension between his two friends was so thick he could almost feel it. Azimio had been awkward and fumbling in his attempts to start conversations with Kurt during French, by turns too casual and too desperate. Kurt, for his part, was treating Azimio with chilly civility that Dave was certain was for his sake and for his sake alone.

"Look," Azimio finally burst out. "What's it going to take to get you to give me a chance? I'm about ready to tear my hair out here, and considering how short it is, that'd take some doing."

"You could take a leaf from Dave's book," Kurt said. "If you're serious about wanting that chance."

"What, come out of the closet?" Azimio asked. "Hate to disappoint, Hummel, but I'm not gay."

Kurt looked annoyed. "You could apologize. How am I supposed to give you a chance and let bygones be bygones when you aren't even acting the slightest bit remorseful?"

Azimio shot Dave a sidelong look that, thanks to several long years of friendship, he had little trouble interpreting. _'How much does this matter to you?'_ he seemed to be asking. Dave gave him a look of his own. _'A lot.'_

Azimio raised his eyebrow and jerked his head toward Kurt slightly, as if to ask, _'And how important is he?'_ Dave's face warmed, and he ducked his head to hide his blush. Azimio looked mildly weirded out, but after a long beat he snickered.

"Really?" he asked out loud.

Dave glared. "Shut up."

"Okay, okay," he said. He leaned around Dave to catch Kurt's eye. "I'm sorry, Hummel. I should have said that right off. Dave's my bro, and if he's cool with you then so am I. We good?"

"Underwhelming as that was," Kurt said dryly, "I accept your apology."

"So does that mean I can come over to hang with you at Hummel's now?" Azimio asked.

Dave gave a start at his question. "How'd you hear about that?"

"Evans is in my chem class," Azimio said.

"And how did Evans hear about it?" Dave asked, puzzled.

"Glee," Kurt said simply. "We've turned gossip into an art form. And yes, you can come over. It's Dave's home too." As they pushed open the doors to the cafeteria, Dave had to fight down an enormous smile at his crush's offhand words. _It's my home, too._

As soon as they were inside, a high-pitched shrieking thing in an ugly sweater came rushing over to pounce on Kurt. "I have the most fantastic news!" Rachel Berry exclaimed.

"It's nice to see you, too," Kurt said blandly. "Also? Take it down a notch before you shatter my eardrums."

She just laughed and grabbed his arm excitedly. "I picked up the forms from Miss Pillsbury on Friday afternoon, and I ambushed Mr. Schue with them before class this morning. Figgins signed off on it during break, and we're good to go!"

"Good to go with what?" Dave asked, eyeing her warily. That much energy in that small a body was just not natural.

She looked up at him, startled. "Oh! I'm sorry, that was rude of me." She stuck out her hand for him to shake. "I'm Rachel Berry."

He took her hand gently for a quick handshake. "I know."

"Normally, the polite thing to do would be to introduce yourself, too, but as I already know who you are there's no need to stand on convention," she said. She beamed up at him. "And might I say, it was incredibly brave of you to embrace your identity as an LGBT youth in such a bold manner. High school can be such a trial for those of us who refuse to bow to conformity, and your courage stands as a shining example to our peers who have yet to take that important step."

"Whoa," Azimio said, edging away slowly. "I don't know what you're on, but you're taking too much of it."

Dave blinked. "Is she always like this?" he asked Kurt, feeling more than a little bowled over.

"No, this is Rachel at her best," Kurt replied. He sounded fondly exasperated. "We're good to go with what, Rachel? What has you so fired up that you're ambushing me before I've even had a bite to eat?"

"The GSA!" she said giddily. "Mr. Schuester's letting us use his classroom during lunch on Thursdays for the rest of the year. Our first official meeting is this week."

Kurt looked at her very seriously, and the thrilled smile slipped off her face as she looked back uncertainly. "Rachel," he said gravely, pointing to a spot on the floor directly in front of him, "Stand right here."

She moved to where he had indicated, biting her lip worriedly.

"Raise your arms up," Kurt said, bringing his own arms parallel to the floor in demonstration. She did so, and he said solemnly, "I'm going to do something that I never thought I'd ever do. Try not to freak out." And he swept her up into a hug, picking her off the floor and whirling her around as she shrieked with laughter and squeezed her arms tight around his neck.

He set her down on her feet, and they held each other's shoulders, slightly wobbly from spinning. "Finn does not deserve you," Kurt told her. "You may get on my very last nerve sometimes, but you are an absolute gem."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear bashfully. "Come on," she said, smiling up at Kurt. "Mercedes picked up your lunch already." She grabbed his arm again to tug him away. "I'll return him after school, but it's my turn to have Kurt time now," she told Dave.

Kurt waved a helpless goodbye over his shoulder as Rachel led him off to their table.

"That's not a person," Azimio stated. "That's a cleverly disguised stick of dynamite."

"No kidding," Dave said. "Anyway. Pizza?"

"Pizza," Azimio agreed.

TEAOMAL

After practice got out – every last player wincing and gingerly rotating the shoulders of their throwing arms as they staggered from the locker room – Dave went to check the auditorium for Kurt only to find that cheerleading practice had finished up. Sue Sylvester was the only one inside, shoving floor mats into a more orderly pile and haphazardly tossing CDs and dumbbells into a large box, heedless of the cracking noises made by weights hitting thin plastic cases. Before Dave could back out without being seen, she spotted him.

"Sneaky Gay," she greeted him. "If you're looking for Ladyface, you just missed him."

"Yup," he said, backing up carefully. "So I'm gonna go find him now."

"Not so fast!" she barked, and Dave stopped in his tracks. She stalked over like some oversized bird of prey, looming above him at a terrifyingly close distance. _Damn that last inch. Why couldn't she be Berry-sized?_

"It's come to my attention that your little football team will be pushing and shoving other sweaty boys around a field while my Cheerios put on a performance this Friday," she said. "You tell Beiste that her amateurish attempt at stealing attention from my squad will not succeed. You are all a bunch of brain-dead, muscle-bound meatheads who wouldn't know talent if it jumped up and sunk its teeth into their tight, firm buttocks." She paused and looked at him piercingly. "Now that I think of it, Meathead is a better name for you."

"Really," Dave said, "Kurt's probably wondering where I am –"

"Speaking of Ladyface," Sue said, "Don't think it's escaped my notice that you harbor the love that dare not speak its name within that vestigial organ I'm told is called a heart, and that said amorous intentions are directed toward the Cheerio who won me my sixth consecutive national championship last year."

Dave blanched. "Um –"

She patted him on the shoulder and smiled. He shivered. There was something very shark-like in her expression. "Relax, kiddo," she said. "Your secret is safe with Sue Sylvester."

"Um," he said. _There has to be a catch_. "Thank y –"

"But if you ever, ever do anything to him that could jeopardize the success of my squad," she said in that same lighthearted manner, "I will tear off your leg with my bare hands and I will use it as a club to beat you to death. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," he said with a gulp.

"Good!" Sue said. "Ladyface is probably waiting for you in the parking lot. Have an excellent rest of your day."

And with those parting words, she left him to beat a hasty retreat to the safety of the student parking lot.

Kurt was sitting cross-legged in the bed of Dave's truck with an open textbook on his lap and a pencil tucked behind his ear. At the sound of Dave's approach, he looked up and his eyes went wide as he took in Dave's face. "You look like you've had ten years scared off your life," he said. "What happened?"

"Sue Sylvester happened," Dave said, and Kurt nodded in understanding.

"I was going to leave the squad at the end of last year, but Coach Sylvester called me into her office and gave me the most nightmare-inducing pep talk I've ever received," Kurt told him. "It was either stay on until graduation or she'd sell _both_ of my kidneys on the black market." He looked Dave over more closely. "Is your shoulder hurting you?"

"Coach Beiste said that we needed to work on our 'spatial awareness,'" Dave said. "So she had us making forward and lateral passes to each other until we could do them successfully without making it too obvious who we were throwing to, so that we weren't telegraphing our moves to the opposing team." At Kurt's blank look, he added, "Basically, we were throwing footballs until our arms went numb."

"Ouch," Kurt said sympathetically. He stuffed his textbook into his book bag and swung over the side of the truck, dropping gracefully to his feet. "Well, there's Tylenol and ice packs at home, and if you're still willing to indulge my obsession with musicals, we could hang out in the living room and watch Guys and Dolls until dinner."

Dave went around to the driver's side and started the engine, and when they were both buckled in, he backed out of the parking space, one eye on the rearview mirror and the other on Kurt. "Guys and Dolls, huh? Sounds like fun to me. What's it about?"

"In the smallest nutshell ever, it's about gamblers," Kurt said. "But entertaining as the plot is, it has nothing on the two most important parts of the movie: the excellent songs and Fifties-era Marlon Brando."

Dave took his eyes off the road for a moment to stare at Kurt, the prickle of worry that was never too far away flaring up with a vengeance. Two anxiety inducing thoughts ran through his head immediately. The first was _Are we even allowed to have crushes on celebrities?_ And the second, far more personal, thought, that he tried fruitlessly to dislodge from his mind, was _Not his type not his type not his type not his type._

Kurt caught his look and correctly guessed one of the reasons behind it. "There's nothing wrong with finding someone attractive," he said, "Or saying so out loud. People who judge you for it, and me for that matter, have no clue what they're missing out on by condemning us without knowing us." What he was kind enough to leave unsaid – that Dave's parents had judged him and condemned him – rang loudly in the cab of the truck while Dave mustered a response.

"You're right," he said finally. "I guess I still have a lot of hang ups to get over."

At that, Kurt laughed. "Maybe so," he said. "But I never thought you would have gotten to where you are now until you were in college at the very least. Believe me, Dave, you're exceeding expectations. As far as how fast it's taking you to overcome your hang ups – considering where you started, you're practically breaking the sound barrier."

"You think so?" Dave asked.

"I do," Kurt said. "I know I told you this already, but I'm proud of you."

Dave found himself at a loss for words, so instead of saying anything he smiled and turned on the radio, stepping a little harder on the gas pedal. He couldn't wait to get back home.

* * *

Upon reflection, I changed the position that Girardi played from tight end to halfback. Tight ends are enormous, and he is not.

Feedback is, as always, much appreciated.


	8. Overdue Talks and Unbeatable Allies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Very Special Episode. Please forgive me.

This is a Very Special Episode. Please forgive me.

* * *

Mr. Schuester's Spanish classroom was only two doors down from Dave and Kurt's French class, so Dave fully expected they would be the first to arrive to (as Rachel's flyers plastered around the school declared in 48 point font) Thursday's inaugural meeting of the McKinley High School Gay-Straight Alliance after the bell rang to let them out for lunch. It was a bit startling, though pleasantly so, to discover that Finn was already inside helping Mr. Schuester shift the tables and chairs around to create a longer table up toward the front of the room.

"Oh, hey," Finn greeted them as he shoved his table up against the end of the one Mr. Schuester was bracing, the bottoms of the legs screeching loudly as they scooted across the linoleum. "Wanna lend a hand, or what?"

"Yeah, no problem," Dave said, taking Kurt's book bag from him and dropping it behind the teacher's desk along with his backpack. "What do you need?"

"More chairs over on this side," Mr. Schuester said. "Eight should do it. Dave, could you duck under the table and start passing chairs up?"

"I'll do it," Kurt said, ignoring Mr. Schuester's look of poorly hidden disbelief. He planted one hand on the table top and jumped, swinging his body across in what Dave was pretty certain was a picture-perfect pike, and landed neatly on the other side. At the surprised sound that escaped Finn, he rolled his eyes. "Honestly. It's like you all forget that football isn't the only competitive sport on campus. Coach Sylvester expects us to be in peak athletic condition or there is hell to pay."

"Dude," Finn said, "Were you, like, a ninja in a past life or something?"

"I'm an atheist, Finn, remember?" Kurt said. "And for the thousand and _first_ time, don't call me dude." He grabbed a nearby chair and passed it across the table into Dave's waiting hands and Dave set it down on his side before ducking under the table like Schuester had suggested to provide Kurt with an extra pair of hands.

Between the four of them, they made short work of setting up the classroom for the meeting, and no sooner than they had taken seats at the table than Rachel arrived with Santana and Brittany in tow, arms overflowing with giant bags of snack foods and a large bottle of 7-Up. A tote bag bounced against her leg as she tottered into the room. "A little help, please?" she asked, her voice somewhat muffled by the bag of chips in front of her face.

Finn jumped up with alacrity to relieve her of the soda bottle and a bag of chips. "Sure – looks like you brought good stuff, Rach."

"Yes," Kurt said. "Very nutritious."

"I know that not everyone has made the ethical choice to switch to a vegan lifestyle," Rachel said, setting the rest of her burden down on the table, "So despite your obvious moral failings in that area I've decided that it would simply be prudent to bring food that the majority of you would want to eat." At Kurt's disdainful glare at the chips and soda, she added, "I have celery and peanut butter in my bag, if you want to share it with me."

"That sounds much better," Kurt said. He looked over at Santana and Brittany, who had taken seats near the end of the table and were busy cuddling and whispering together. "Is anyone else coming?"

"We saw those two kids from Challenge Day over in the science hall," Santana said, not looking up. "But I don't think they'll show. Underclassmen," she said dismissively. "They scare so easily."

"Did you scare 'em off?" Dave asked, amused.

Brittany giggled. "No. But Rachel did."

"I was merely attempting to explain how important the GSA is, and how enthusiastic they should be about joining," Rachel said, crossing her arms huffily. "I can't help it if some people just don't want to step out of the confines of the claustrophobia-inducing boxes that society forces us into."

"In other words, you scared them half out of their wits," Kurt said, "and those poor children will never look at the junior class the same way again."

"Bang on the money," Santana said, slapping the table lightly to underscore her words.

"It's their loss, and I'm sure they will come to regret it eventually," Rachel sniffed. She took a stack of Dixie cups from her tote bag and put them on the table, sliding the soda and chip bags into the middle so that everyone could reach them. "If that's all of us," she said, "Why don't we get started?"

"I thought we were just going to eat junk food and hang out," Santana said. "But if you have something else in mind I'll play along."

"She didn't bring any board games, though," Brittany said, puzzled. "What are we supposed to play?"

"I thought we might discuss your experiences as LGBT students since coming out last week at Challenge Day," Rachel said.

"That's a great idea," Mr. Schuester said. "Dave? Do you want to start us off?"

"Okay," he said. He looked around at all of them. "Uh – do any of you _not_ know how things went for me?" No one spoke up. "Right. So, that happened. And, uhm, it's been pretty decent, actually. Weird not being at home, and I miss my parents, but it seems like it's for the best right now. Kurt's dad is really cool. So's Finn's mom."

"I know it must be difficult," Rachel said, looking at him from across the table with big, sad eyes. "But I have faith that you will ultimately triumph and find yourself a better person for the trials you are facing now."

"Thank you, I think," Dave replied uncertainly. Desperate to get away from her far-too-intense focus on him, he quickly said, "Santana! Anything interesting happen with you?"

She shrugged. "Not really. Mom told me I still had to provide her with grandkids, and Dad asked me if I was going to join the softball team. They don't get the whole 'bisexual' thing, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

"My mom asked me if I wanted to move to Iowa," Brittany said, "But I don't get why she thought I wanted to move away from Santana."

Rachel clapped happily. "That's fantastic! I'm so happy for both of you."

"Yeah," Dave echoed, trying and failing to beat back the envy that was nearly choking him. They deserved to have supportive parents, and he wouldn't wish his experience on anyone, but – shouldn't his parents have done the same? He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Yeah," he said again, more sincerely this time. "That's really great news." He saw Kurt giving him a sidelong look, concern written across his face, and moved his hand a few inches closer to Kurt's under the table, hoping that Kurt might take it to give him support like he had on Friday night. Kurt smiled slightly, as if he knew what Dave was doing, and set his own hand on top of Dave's for a moment.

Rachel turned her attention to Kurt. "I know you've been out for a while," she said, "But would you be willing to share your experience of coming out to your father with us?"

"Sure," Kurt said. "It was – " He broke off as a shadow fell across the open door, and someone knocked. They all looked up at the sound to see Azimio standing right outside the door with a slice of pizza on a paper plate in his hand.

"Are we late?" Azimio asked, poking his head inside. He grinned at Dave, and Dave couldn't help but grin widely back at his best friend, happy to see another friendly face. "We all went to pick up lunch first."

 _Who's 'we all'?_ Dave wondered, craning his neck to see who was behind Azimio.

"Not at all!" Mr. Schuester said. "Come on in."

"Right on," Azimio said, and he sauntered into the room. When Dave saw how many people were following him in, he nearly forgot how to breathe.

First came Rashad and Mercedes, who blew a kiss at Kurt. Then Quinn Fabray and Evans, Chang and Tina, and – and Puckerman and Abrams. _I am hallucinating_ , Dave thought with a tinge of hysteria, stunned into disbelief. _The whole goddamn Glee club is here._

"What are you all doing here?" Kurt asked as they all crowded around the table, taking seats and grabbing at Rachel's snacks.

"Personally, I just hate feeling left out," Rashad said jokingly.

"Because you're our friends," Quinn told him. She cast a half-serious glance at Rachel and added, "Well, most of you are."

"Let's get this party started, yo," Puckerman said, spinning a chair around to straddle it backwards. "Pass the soda over here."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Rachel exclaimed. "It's so encouraging to see such an enormous turnout of straight allies to our very first meeting."

"I was told there would be snacks," Abrams said as he shifted the remaining chair out of the way and wheeled himself in. At Rachel's dark look, he said hastily, "Just kidding. The food had no influence on my decision to come."

"So what did we miss?" Mercedes asked.

"We were discussing the experiences that some of our club members have had with coming out to their parents," Mr. Schuester told them. "Dave, Santana and Brittany have all shared their stories, and Kurt was about to tell us his. Kurt?"

Kurt nodded and looked around the table at everyone. "Well," he said, "After we won our only football game last year –"

Azimio, Finn, Chang and Rashad burst into a short, spontaneous round of applause, and Kurt doffed an imaginary cap in acknowledgment.

"As I was saying, when I came home after the game, my dad came down to my room and told me he was proud of me. And I told him I was gay." Kurt smiled. "He said he'd known since I was three, but he was glad I'd told him anyway."

Puckerman and Abrams began snickering quietly, and Kurt turned in his seat to face them. "Something amusing you?" he asked evenly.

"It's just kind of surprising he didn't figure it out even earlier. Like in infancy," Abrams said.

"Yeah," Puck added. "I'd always thought you popped out of the womb wearing ruby slippers and a tiara."

"I mean, did you really think you were ever in the closet?" Abrams asked, chortling. "Come on, Kurt. Get real. You're like a walking stereotype."

For a fleeting moment Kurt looked like he was about to fire back with an angry retort, but the expression faded quickly from his face and he went still, color high in his cheeks and a sheen to his eyes that seemed to have more to do with suppressed anger than hurt feelings.

Rachel spoke up, an outraged look on her face. "Mr. Schuester, before we go any further I'd like to take a moment to address a problem we have. Namely, the homophobic behavior that some of my fellow Glee-mates have been displaying." She gave Abrams and Puckerman a telling look.

"I agree," Mr. Schuester said. He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table, and frowned thoughtfully. "Artie? Puck? What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"That's totally bogus," Puckerman said. "I got no problem with gay dudes. Karofsky's cool, even though he used to be a total jerk. And Berry would be annoying no matter who her parents were, so no issue there."

"And it's kind of hot that Santana and Brittany are together," Abrams added.

Rachel stared at them for a long moment, and when neither of them said anything further, she snapped, "That's it? What about Kurt?" Kurt sat up straighter at that.

"What about him?" Puckerman asked.

"You didn't mention him in your less than impressive list of reasons why you aren't homophobic," Rachel said. "Why?"

Puckerman and Abrams traded a strange look. It took Dave a moment to recognize it as discomfort. "Kurt is, um," Abrams started awkwardly.

"Hummel is Hummel," Puckerman said. "Like I said, I got no problem with gay dudes. But – "

"But Kurt doesn't even seem like a dude sometimes," Abrams aid. "It's like, we get that you're gay, Kurt. We don't need to be reminded of it twenty-four seven."

Under the table, Dave clenched his fists, ready to spring to Kurt's defense at the next word. Kurt's hand came down onto his again, and Dave shot him a look of helpless fury. Kurt shook his head subtly at him, and Dave took another deep breath, forcing himself to relax.

"You see!" Rachel said shrilly, pointing at Abrams and Puckerman. "That! That is what I'm talking about! It's like Challenge Day didn't even matter to you! And you're saying these horrible things in a GSA meeting, of all places!"

They both started protesting immediately.

"It's not like that!"

"C'mon, Rachel. Of course it mattered!"

Kurt's voice cut across their protests. "Shut up." He stood and smiled warmly at Rachel. She nodded back, the two of them in complete accord. "Thank you, Rachel."

"My pleasure."

"Kurt, we don't mean – " Abrams started to say.

"No, really," Kurt said. "Shut up. It's my turn to talk." He glanced at Schuester as if confirming that he had the floor. "Since you clearly find it utterly impossible to put yourselves in my shoes and muster up any empathy whatsoever like rational human beings, it's apparent that I'm going to have to actually explain why the things you say aren't the slightest bit funny. And you two are going to shut up and not interrupt me while I say my piece.

"I expect it from people outside Glee," he started. "It's pretty much par for the course: I come to school and someone calls me a fairy, a fag, a girl, a cross-dresser – that's my average school day. But when it comes from people who don't know me, who I've never once considered my friends, it hurts less than when it comes from within the circle of people I let get close to me. And you two are in that circle, and let me tell you. It hurts.

"Artie, I doubt you'd like it if able-bodied people said to you, 'We get that you can't walk. You don't need to shove it in our faces all the time with that enormous wheelchair of yours. Can't you go be disabled somewhere else? Couldn't you _try_ to use a cane like other disabled people? At least with them it's not as obvious – why, they're almost normal compared to you.'"

Abrams flushed. The parallels between Kurt's example and how Kurt and Dave were treated at school were hit-you-over-the-head obvious.

"And Puck, you're a tough, good looking guy, but what if you looked like Jacob Ben Israel, and half the school thought your name was Jewfro? And everywhere you went, people gave you crap for your religion, your hair, your nose, your dietary needs – and you weren't big enough or strong enough to intimidate people into not saying things like 'I got totally jewed on that deal,' or 'Puck's got his head down, he must be looking for pennies.'"

This time it was Puckerman's turn to look away uncomfortably, and Dave felt the back of his neck heat up in embarrassment. He'd never bothered to learn Ben Israel's name, either.

He sighed and leaned against the table. "Look. I like fashion. I like musical theatre. This does not make me any less of a guy than you are. It just makes me a guy who likes fashion and musical theatre. I have a high voice. That doesn't make me a girl either. It makes me a guy who can hit notes that you will never be able to reach naturally. And then there's the fact that I'm gay. Guess what? That still. Does not. Make me a girl. I'm offended that even after all this time you still act like treating me with respect and dignity will somehow irreparably damage your precious sense of masculine pride. It also offends me that you seem to think that the worst insult in the world is to imply that a guy is a girl. There's nothing wrong with girls. Girls are just as smart, talented, and capable as guys. I would think that you would recognize this after being in Glee with so many smart, talented, and capable girls for so long. You think I try to join the girls' team because I want to be one? No. It's because they actually want me to work with them."

The girls all smiled at that, and Kurt smiled back briefly before turning his attention back to Abrams and Puckerman. "I can't make you like me or respect me," he said, sitting back down. "But the insults have to stop."

A heavy silence followed that no one remotely willing to break. Puckerman and Abrams looked taken aback, and didn't seem able to take their eyes off of Kurt. Dave took a second, closer look at their faces and realized that he was mistaken. They weren't taken aback. They looked ashamed - incredibly ashamed. When he couldn't stand the silence any longer, Dave said quietly to the back of Kurt's head, "I wish I had half as much courage as you do."

When Kurt turned to face him, he looked tired and serious, but there was a warm smile in his eyes that, to Dave, seemed like it was meant just for him. "You do," he said. "Or do you not consider coming out an act of bravery?"

"Kurt," Abrams said hesitantly, "Are we – are we really that bad?"

"Do you want me to be kind or honest?" Kurt replied.

"Just tell us," Puckerman said, holding on to the edge of the table with a white-knuckled grip. "Please."

"In some ways," Kurt said slowly, "You're worse. You're unpredictable. With bullies, there's a pattern. They see me, I get insulted or body-checked into lockers pretty much without fail." He shot Dave a quelling look at that. "Don't apologize. You've already been forgiven."

Dave bit back the apology already on his lips. "Fair enough."

"As I was saying," Kurt continued, "Bullies are predictable. You aren't. I can go for days, even a week or two, without you saying something homophobic, and I start to relax and let my guard down. Then you'll make some remark insinuating that I wear women's clothing, or that I was born wearing a tiara and ruby slippers, and I'm not braced for it. It shocks me every time without fail, because whenever you lay off for a while I start hoping that you've grown up and decided to stop being so – so casually cruel. And it feels like a betrayal every time." He met their eyes steadily. "I'm a person. Not a punch line."

Puckerman dropped his head into his hands and Abrams leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, looking pained.

"Well," Mr. Schuester said, looking a bit shamefaced as well, "I think Kurt has given us all a lot to think about. That was very well put, Kurt. Thank you for being willing to be so candid."

"I'm among friends, Mr. Schue," Kurt said politely. "There's no reason for me not to be." Abrams made a small unhappy noise at that, and Dave had a sneaking suspicion that Kurt was taking just the slightest bit of pleasure twisting the knife.

Rachel raised her hand as if she were sitting in class, but didn't wait to be called on before she started talking. "If everyone is alright with me using this serious topic to segue into something lighter, yet still important, then I would like to share with all of you the goal that I came up with for the GSA."

"Yes, please," Kurt said immediately, and the tension in the room broke as several people laughed in relief at his desperate tone.

"Go for it," Santana said. "But make it snappy. Passing period starts in ten minutes."

"Alright," Rachel said, squaring her shoulders. "Well, when it comes to diversity, there's always a lot of talk about 'tolerance,' but tolerance is the wrong way to go about achieving equality. We tolerate bad traffic and seasonal colds – tolerance just means that we put up with what we don't like because we have to. What we need to work on instead is promoting acceptance. We need to get our peers to accept that we all have our differences, whether it's sexual orientation, race, physical ability, or religion, and that there is nothing wrong with any of us for simply being who we are."

Around the table, heads nodded in agreement.

"I like it," Tina said. "It's simple, yet profound."

"I'll say it again. You're a gem," Kurt told her.

"Works for me," Mercedes agreed. "But what can we do?"

Rachel perked up at the positive reception. "I thought we could discuss some bigger steps we could take in our next meeting –"

"Assuming this one hasn't ruined GSA meetings for you forever," Kurt interjected wryly.

"– But for right now, I have a few things in my bag that we could start with," she finished, reaching into her tote to pull out an overstuffed gallon-sized Ziploc bag full of what looked like little pins and rainbow ribbons. She opened the mouth of the bag and spilled its contents across the table. "I thought we might put some of these on our backpacks, and distribute the rest to the other students later."

Dave leaned in, curious. There were several dozen rainbow ribbons attached to small safety pins, folded over like the yellow "Support Our Troops" ribbons he saw on car bumpers all the time, and scattered amongst them were at least as many small, colorful buttons with text across the front. Azimio grabbed a handful and began to read them out loud.

"'Straight but Not Narrow,'" he read, holding the button up.

"I want it," Chang said, and Azimio tossed into his outstretched hands.

"'I Kiss Girls,'" he said.

"Mine!" Santana said.

Azimio passed it down the table and held up a third. "'Live and Let Love.'"

Mercedes made a beckoning gesture. "Fork it over," she ordered, and affixed it to her shirt with a pleased smile.

"Made with Pride" was claimed by Rachel, and Finn, Evans and Rashad all took "Straight but Not Narrow" buttons. Quinn picked out a "Celebrate Diversity" button, and Brittany took "It's Okay to be Gay." Azimio, after much deliberation, chose a pin with little gay stick figures that read, "It's Okay, It's Only Love." Puckerman and Abrams looked hesitantly at Kurt, as if they were checking to see that it was alright for them to participate. At his encouraging nod, Puckerman took a fifth "Straight but Not Narrow" button, and Abrams selected a pin that said, "All You Need Is Love."

Kurt grinned. "That leaves us with the fun ones," he told Dave, standing to get a better look at the selection. "Ooh, hey! 'Got Pride?'" He showed Dave the black button with the rainbow lettering. "And look at this one," he said, laughing. "'Two Pair Beats a Straight!' Rachel, I'm taking both of these."

"Be my guest," she said happily. "Dave? Do you not want a button?"

"It's not that," he said, feeling that hated anxiety rising within him as he looked at the buttons. "It's – it just doesn't seem possible. I feel like it's okay to talk about it in here, and it's great to look at buttons and rainbow ribbons and think about ways to, God, establish a new world order or something, but – I know what's waiting out there, and it's not some utopia where people like me 'n Kurt never get bashed, or where every parent loves their kid no matter what." He looked down, afraid to see the disappointed look on Kurt's face.

"Dave," Kurt said softly. "Look around you."

He reluctantly raised his eyes to take in the entire group all holding up their pins and looking at him with – _God, with kindness. Why the hell are they so nice to me?_

"It's not just you against the world," Kurt told him. "It's all of us together against McKinley – us, and Mr. Schuester, and Miss Pillsbury, and Dad, and Carole. You don't have to go it alone. And honestly, I think we can make that 'new world order' happen here if we try hard enough."

"How many times do I need to tell you I got your back before you believe me?" Azimio asked, tapping his button pointedly.

"Go on," Rachel said, smiling. "Pick one."

Plucking up his nerve, Dave leaned across the table and scanned the buttons, dismissing some as too treacle-y sweet and others as too in-your-face. He finally picked up one with a striped rainbow background and white lettering, and when he brought it closer to his face to read what it said, he had to smile. "'Not a White Flag,'" he said quietly.

Kurt smiled as well, taking Dave's hand and folding it closed around the button. "I think it's perfect for you," he said. He let go, and Dave immediately missed the feeling of Kurt's hand on his.

 _Brrriiiing!_

The bell for passing period rang, and Dave jerked, startled by the sudden noise. He was reluctant to leave the camaraderie of GSA behind in exchange for crowded halls and another boring chapter review in Chemistry, and judging by the way the rest of the group was lingering, they all felt the same way. Eventually, though, they began to pick up their backpacks and trickle out the door in twos and threes.

"Kurt?" Abrams said apprehensively, Puckerman standing at his side with shoulders hunched and his hands jammed into his pockets nervously. "Could we talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course," Kurt said, leading them to the back of the classroom.

Dave's class was all the way on the other side of the campus, but he couldn't bring himself to leave without making sure that Kurt would be alright. He fetched his backpack from behind Mr. Schuester's desk and sat on the table instead, helping Rachel put all the buttons and ribbons back into her tote while keeping his ears open for sounds of trouble. When the table was cleared and Rachel's bag fully repacked, she took a seat on the table beside him.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked.

"Kurt didn't eat lunch," she told him. "I'm going to make him eat my celery and peanut butter on the way to our gym class." She looked up at him with a look in her eye that said she already knew the answer to the question she was about to ask. "And what are you waiting for?"

"Just – Kurt," Dave said. He pinned his button onto his backpack and shrugged. "I want to make sure nothing happens."

"It's strange," she mused. "Not even two weeks ago it would have been one of us keeping an eye on you." She smiled and shook her head. "I'm very pleased to have the chance to get to know the real Dave Karofsky."

"We can go now," Kurt said as he, Puckerman and Abrams came back to the front of the room. His eyes were slightly red, and Puckerman was roughly dragging the back of his hand across his eyes, but all three were smiling. The knot of tension in Dave's stomach disappeared at the sight. "Thanks for waiting."

"It's in my best interest to see you fed on a regular basis," Rachel said tartly, willfully misinterpreting the meaning of his words. "When you skip lunch you turn into a nightmarish doppelganger of yourself whose only method of communication is biting sarcasm." She pressed the container of celery and peanut butter into his hands. "Eat on the way. We're going to be late if we linger."

"Then by all means, let's get moving," Kurt said. He retrieved his bag and smiled at Dave. "I'll see you in the parking lot."

"Count on it," Dave said, standing up. He, Abrams, and Puckerman left together, all walking or rolling as fast as they could toward the science hall.

 _Back to reality._ He smiled. Pinned to his backpack was a tangible reminder that even though reality often sucked beyond description, he wasn't nearly as alone as he felt. That Blaine kid might give terrible advice, but he was right about at least two things. It took courage - and he was not alone.

* * *

Believable? Overdone? Feedback is very much appreciated.


	9. Things that Shouldn't Be Overheard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the name of the high school that the opposing team comes from has been changed to Ellison. Given what I've put in the players' mouths, I thought it best to make it a fictional high school.

Please note that the name of the high school that the opposing team comes from has been changed to Ellison. Given what I've put in the players' mouths, I thought it best to make it a fictional high school.

* * *

For convenience' sake, after dinner on Friday Kurt drove Dave, Finn and himself back to McKinley together for the game against Ellison High. Kurt was already decked out in his red and white cheer uniform, and from the backseat Dave watched Finn look at Kurt with a confused expression.

"You're not wearing that glitter stuff you come home with," he said finally.

"Unfortunately," Kurt said, "I can only evade Quinn and Santana for so long before they pin me down and assault my face with that smelly glitter stick from hell. Now, I can wear glitter with the best of them, but that stuff was invented by people even more soulless than Rupert Murdoch for the express purpose of clogging pores and causing headaches." He glanced into the rearview mirror and smiled ruefully at Dave. "It's worse when it's Becky. I can't bring myself to even attempt to tell her no."

"Yeah," Dave said. "If she came after me with glittery crap I'd probably cave too."

"So why don't you wear your own stuff ahead of time?" Finn asked. "Don't you have some blue stuff left over from your Gaga costume?"

"I tried that once," Kurt said. "They insisted it wasn't the 'right' glitter and smeared their godforsaken product on my face anyway. And really, if they can browbeat the other guys on the squad into sporting glitter then I just don't have a chance against them."

"That sucks, du –"

"Aht!" Kurt snapped. "Not the d-word!"

"Kurt," Finn amended.

"Better."

Dave laughed. "He's gonna train you out of it whether you like it or not, man."

"With you kicking and screaming all the way, I'm sure," Kurt said.

"It's hard to break the habit," Finn said. "I'm working on it."

"That's all I ask," Kurt said. Conversation apparently over, he pressed the audio button on the dashboard. An old-timey sounding song filled the inside of the car, a woman's gorgeous voice soaring above the music to sing sadly in French.

"Who's this?" Dave asked, leaning forward between the seats to make himself heard.

"Edith Piaf," Kurt said, his fingers tapping the steering wheel along to the slow tempo. "'Mon Dieu.' She's legendary. This isn't a song she's better known for, at least in the United States, but it's still beautiful, and so heartbreaking."

Dave listened closely, translating the lyrics inside his head. _"Leave him to me a little longer, just to me…. Long enough to adore each other, and to tell each other, long enough to make memories for ourselves. My God! Oh yes, my God! Let him fill my life a little bit…."_ He looked up into the rearview mirror to see Kurt looking back with an understanding smile.

"Hits you right here, doesn't it?" Kurt said, taking a hand off the steering wheel to tap the left side of his chest.

"Yeah," Dave said. He unconsciously imitated Kurt's gesture and nodded. "That's pretty powerful stuff."

"I take it it's deep and emotional?" Finn asked. "I can't tell – I never took French."

"Yes, Finn," Kurt said. "It's deep and emotional."

"Cool." Finn propped his chin in his palm, elbow on the armrest, and settled in to listen in silence as Kurt drove the rest of the way to school.

The three of them separated at the gym, Dave and Finn heading to the changing rooms while Kurt took off to join the rest of the Cheerios on the field. Chang and Rashad caught up with them just inside the gym doors.

"Ready for this?" Rashad asked, waggling his eyebrows comically. "I hear they're good."

"Haven't lost a game yet this season," Dave said. "And after all the work Coach put us through, we couldn't be readier."

"We can take 'em," Finn said confidently.

"Don't get cocky," Chang said. "But if you have to, keep it where Beiste won't hear you. I don't want to sit through another lecture about overconfidence screwing with our gameplay."

"That I can deal with," Finn said. "It's the suicides that come after that I hate." They all grimaced at the thought. Drill hell afternoons were exactly that: afternoons where they left the field convinced they'd died and gone to hell.

A handful of guys Dave vaguely recognized as players from Ellison High were lingering outside the girls' locker room that they were using as their changing room for the game, pads and uniforms already on, helmets tucked beneath their arms. They looked the four of them over carefully, as if they were trying to figure something out.

"My cousin Amy told me there was a fag on your team," the one in a blue number 40 jersey – a big, burly guy with close-cropped blond hair – said at last in a conversational tone. It was apparent that they'd decided that it couldn't be one of them. Dave swallowed the hurt that welled up inside at the offhand words. _I'll be getting this all my life_ , he thought glumly. _No use showing how much it gets to me._

"Is that so," Chang said neutrally, a faint note of sarcasm lacing his words. "Well, thank you for bringing it to our attention. It's a total shock. We had no idea. Oh. The horror."

"Whatever shall we do?" Rashad chimed in, putting the back of his hand to his forehead theatrically. "The very thought makes me want to run for the hills."

The other players narrowed their eyes. "Think it's funny?" another guy said, this one shorter and dark haired, with broad shoulders and a sunburnt nose. "Maybe you're cool with some homo sneaking peeks at you in the locker room, but we don't want that shit on the field."

"If one of your guys tries to feel me up during the game, I'm gonna break his face," the first one said.

"What position do you play?" Finn asked him abruptly. "Fullback?"

The burly guy shook his head, looking suspicious. "Tight end. Why?"

Finn smiled dangerously. "Dave?"

"Yeah?" he responded. He could see where this was headed and, despite how much he wanted to push past them all and just go get changed, he couldn't help but be a bit amused.

"Put this asshole down _hard_ out there."

"Y' know what?" Dave said. "It'd be my absolute fucking pleasure." And with that parting remark, the four of them shouldered past the other guys and ducked into the locker room to get changed.

"Forget those bastards," Rashad said bracingly as they joined the rest of the team in the locker room. "Don't let them get to you."

"Easier said than done," Dave muttered. He pulled his sweatshirt off and dropped his jeans to the floor, sitting down on the bench to insert the protective pads into his girdle. "It fucks with my head."

"Well, think about it this way," Finn said, pulling up his uniform pants and cinching them tight. "Number Forty is the tight end. You're the safety. And he might be bigger around the middle, but I bet he's slower. You can have him eating grass the whole game."

"There is that," Dave admitted. "And I'll have fun doing it." He stood and started suiting up as fast as he could, eyes carefully averted from his teammates: jock and cup, then girdle, then pants, socks, and cleats, followed by shoulder pads and jersey. He was just tucking his jersey into his pants when Coach Beiste's voice boomed out, bouncing off the tile walls of the changing room.

"You have thirty seconds to make yourselves decent, gentlemen!" she shouted, "And then I'm coming in to have a chat!"

There was a last minute flurry of activity at her announcement as the slower members of the team hurriedly yanked their pants on. The door banged open and Coach Beiste strode to the front of the changing room to stand by the white board. "Listen up," she said. "We've been working toward this game for two weeks now. We may not know their specific plays, but we know their weaknesses, and by God, we're going to exploit every one of them." They banged on the locker doors in triumphant agreement, and she indulged them for a few seconds before cutting them off with a sharp wave of her hand. "Hudson, I'm putting you in for the first half. The bare minimum I expect from you is that you advance the ball. Bare minimum. What I really want is a touchdown, but you just keep us from having to turn over the ball and I'll be satisfied. Evans, we'll get you in for the waggle in the second half. Got it?"

"Got it, Coach," Finn and Evans chorused.

"Good. Adams, Ellison's fullback is an aggressive player. You keep on him, hear me?"

Azimio nodded. "Loud and clear, Coach."

Beiste's eyes sought out Dave's. "Karofsky. Don't let the tight end through. I want him blocked."

"Not a problem, Coach," Dave said.

"I don't have anything specific for the rest of you, but you know what I expect: your absolute best," Beiste said. She scanned the team gathered before her and said, "I don't see my kicker. Where's Levitt?"

A hand shot up from behind Joey Tucker's massive shoulders. "Yo!" Aaron Levitt called out.

"Levitt," Coach Beiste said, shaking her head, "I only have one instruction for you. Have a growth spurt. Soon." They snickered at that, and Beiste clapped her hands together loudly. "Alright, team, finish suiting up and get out there. Let's kick some Eagle butt!"

Out on the field, Dave couldn't help scanning the stands for his parents' faces, hoping against hope that somehow, miraculously, they'd be there to cheer him on. He sighed around his mouth guard, unsurprised but still hurt, when there was no sign of them anywhere. Finn came up and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Look," he said, pointing up at the stands.

Dave followed his finger to where Burt Hummel and Carole Hudson were sitting with Rachel, Tina, and Mercedes. He blinked. There were the expected homemade signs reading, "GO NUMBER 5!" and "GO FINN!" But Tina was holding a sign that said, "YAY MIKE AND DAVE!" And – holy crap – Mercedes was holding two signs: one with Rashad's jersey number, 26, and _the other had Dave's number_. Mercedes Jones was holding a sign that said, "GO 33!" She saw him looking up into the stands and waved the sign in the air, smirking at his surprise.

"Pinch me," he said to Finn.

"You wouldn't feel it through the padding," Finn said.

"Good point."

They jogged over to the line of scrimmage, taking position against the Eagles. Dave looked across to where number 40 was bent over, and when 40 looked over and made eye contact, he gave him a feral grin. _You're going down, you son of a bitch,_ he thought fiercely. He hoped that jackass could read minds.

TEAOMAL

When the game was over, and they'd all finished shaking hands with their opponents like the gracious victors that they totally weren't in reality, Dave headed back to the locker room ahead of everyone else, bone-tired and sore from blocking the tight end who outweighed him by a good thirty pounds. His uniform was smeared with dirt and grass stains, but, he thought with what would have been pride if he wasn't so exhausted, number 40's uniform looked a hell of a lot worse.

"You guys play a tough game," he heard from behind him. He recognized the speaker as number 40.

"Surprised?" Azimio said in response, laughing slightly.

"Didn't expect it," number 40 said. "We got our asses kicked. That doesn't happen often."

"We have a good team," Azimio said.

"So," number 40 said, "Which one of you 's the gay one?"

Laughter again, this time from Dylan White, their other varsity halfback. "You mean you couldn't tell?" he asked mockingly.

"…No," number 40 said grudgingly. "Was it 18? That other quarterback? Or the kicker?"

"Not even close, man," White said. "You know that guy who kept knocking you on your ass the whole game?"

"No way. _Him_?"

Dave sped up his footsteps, not interested in overhearing any more of their conversation. He just wanted to get out of his uniform and into bed where he could sleep until ten on Saturday. He wanted to leave behind the assholes who looked him in the eye and talk about fags like they were making friendly conversation because they assumed he was just like them. He – Jesus, he was pathetic – just wanted to see Kurt, crappy glitter gunk on his face or not, and reassure himself that he had someone in his life who _got_ him, and then he wanted to sleep.

He slipped into the empty locker room and stripped off his uniform quickly, pulling his street clothes back on and tying his shoes hastily as the rest of the team poured in, exuberant and high off their win. Finn practically bounced over to Dave's locker, eyes gleaming and sweat plastering his hair to his head.

"We usually go for victory ice cream at Breadstix," he said. "You wanna?"

Dave shook his head. "I'm beat, man. Next game, maybe?"

Finn looked momentarily disappointed before perking back up. "That's okay. You can take a nap in the back of Kurt's car and the three of us can hit the Dairy Queen drive-thru instead."

"That sounds better," Dave said. "Where is he, by the way?"

"Just outside the door," Finn said, "With Mom and Burt. They were gonna wait in the parking lot, but I told 'em about those guys from Ellison, and they didn't want to make us walk all the way out there by ourselves."

"Thanks," Dave said, touched by his teammate's consideration. "Well. I'll see you back at the car."

When he stepped outside the locker room, Carole immediately pulled him into a motherly hug. "Congratulations!" she said proudly. "You were great out there."

"Thanks," he said, tentatively hugging her back. He looked at Kurt, now dressed in slacks and a dark blue trench coat with his cheeks smeared with glitter, over her shoulder, and Kurt shrugged as if to say, _'Just go with it.'_

She released him, and then it was Burt's turn to congratulate him, shaking his hand firmly and smiling. "That was some good playing out there," he said. "I can see why they made you the strong safety."

"Thanks," he said again. He turned to Kurt. "I'm ready to fall over," he said. "Finn figured we could swing by DQ for ice cream instead of going out – can I get your keys and go crash in your car while you wait for Finn?"

"Sure," Kurt said, digging his keys out of his pocket. He worked the electronic fob off the chain and handed it over. "Just let Dad and Carole walk out with you, okay?"

"Okay," he said, too tired to hide his gratitude.

Carole seemed to pick up on how close he was to falling asleep on his feet, and she took his arm and began to gently steer him in the direction of the gym doors. "Please drop Finn off no later than ten thirty, Kurt," she requested. "He has a history test to study for, and I want him rested enough to do that tomorrow."

"Will do, Carole," Kurt promised.

The three of them walked out to the parking lot quietly. When they reached the Navigator, Dave stared down at the key fob dumbly, as if he'd never seen one before. Burt took it from his hand and unlocked the car, opening the door for him. "Why don't you go to the back row?" he suggested. "Be quieter there."

"Yeah," Dave agreed tiredly. "'Good idea." He pulled himself up into the car, holding the middle row of seats to steady himself, and crawled back to the last row to lie down on his side. He barely had the presence of mind to reach for the seatbelt and buckle it around his hips, and the awkward fit made him squirm to get comfortable. He relaxed with a contented sigh and closed his eyes.

"See you at home, kid," Burt said quietly.

"Mmkay," Dave said, and Burt shut the door as gently as possible.

He was drowsing slightly when Kurt and Finn got into the car, shutting the doors quietly so as not to disturb him. "Think he's asleep?" Finn asked in an undertone.

Dave heart rustling coming from the front seat, as if Kurt was turning around to check and see. "Out like a light," he murmured. The engine came to life with a low, smooth rumble, and Kurt started to back the Navigator out of the parking space.

"So why not?" Finn asked quietly, sounding as if he were picking up a conversation they'd already been having before getting back to the car.

Kurt sighed. "I have my reasons."

Dave rolled further into the seat as Kurt turned the steering wheel and began driving forward.

"I don't get it," Finn said. "He's out, he likes you, and I never thought I'd say this but he's a pretty cool guy. He's freaking pining, d – Kurt. You can't just ignore it."

 _They're talking about me._ Dave woke up fully at that, but forced himself to continue to lie still; he knew he should let them know he was awake, but an intense burst of worry kept him from doing so. He wanted to know Kurt's reasons even more than Finn did.

"I'm not ignoring anything," Kurt replied quietly. "And keep your voice down."

"Okay," Finn said, the volume of his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "But really. Why don't you give him a chance?"

"A week and a half ago, he was still closeted," Kurt said. "Three and a half weeks ago, he was still knocking me into lockers and harassing me at every turn. Finn, I get that you have good intentions here, but I can't. For one, he's still incredibly insecure about being openly gay. That show of bravado in the cafeteria the day after he came out was just that, a show to prove he hadn't turned into some horrifically homophobic stereotype of a limp-wristed queen overnight. He gets anxious about pride buttons and celebrity crushes – how do you think he'd handle holding hands at school or going on dates in public? I know he has a crush, but it would push him way beyond the limits of what he's currently comfortable with."

There was a long pause, and in Dave's mind's eye he imagined Finn mulling over Kurt's words. _How does he read me so easily?_ Standing up to Lowry at lunch that day had definitely been about proving he was still tough and not so easy to mess with. But there had been fear somewhere in the back of his mind that he hadn't consciously acknowledged until just now that people would look at him and they wouldn't see the letterman's jacket or the athleticism or even the _height_ that he used to use to intimidate them. That they would look at him and think, "Gay." Not athlete, not football player, not student, just "gay." And with it would come all of the ugly mess of stereotypes and assumptions, and he'd stop being Dave Karofsky, individual, and become The Other Gay Kid at McKinley. But if Kurt gave him a chance – _I would try so hard. I'd get over my fears or die trying if I could just have a fucking chance._

"And the other thing?" Finn asked. "The, uh, the bullying?"

"Three and a half weeks, Finn," Kurt said. He sounded regretful. "I need time to get past it. I do like him as a person – rather a lot, actually, and intellectually I know that the way he used to behave isn't how he would have behaved if he hadn't been so afraid of coming out. But…sometimes, when I'm sitting in the living room or standing in the parking lot and he comes up behind me unexpectedly, it takes everything I have to not flinch. I can't help it. It's been my gut reaction to seeing him for nearly a year now. I feel horrible about it – and I truly have forgiven him – but some wounds just take longer to heal."

A sharp pang of remorse stabbed at Dave. He'd done that: the fear, the mistrust. This was all his fault. He'd never suspected Kurt felt that way – not once had Kurt been anything but friendly since he'd come out. God, if he could just go back in time, he'd fix it all. He'd come out and take his chances with his parents again. He'd be nice to Kurt – he'd defend him against the other jocks, he'd make friends with him, he'd show Kurt that he was, if not a good person, then at least a decent one. He'd ask Kurt out, and if he was lucky he'd get to kiss him properly, after a date. Not while teetering at the edge of a breakdown where the only options he'd seen had been to run, cry, or kiss Kurt.

He wouldn't be the guy that Kurt fought not to flinch around.

He realized he'd been holding his breath, and he let it out shakily, as quietly as possible. He didn't want to hear any more, and he fervently wished that he'd had the sense to sit up and greet them when they'd gotten into the car. But there was no changing the past, not the past year or the past five minutes. Masochism forced him to continue listening – if he was going to hear this, he would hear it all.

"I never would've guessed," Finn said. "I thought it was kind of like how it was with you and me, where you just got over it really quickly."

"If I hadn't been blinkered by my crush on you, I would have had nearly the same reaction to you that I did to Puck when he first joined Glee," Kurt said. "Sheer terror for a month – and that was besides the suppressed flinching I did around him for the rest of the semester. In comparison, Dave tripping my fight or flight response every so often is mild."

"Oh," Finn said softly. "I guess I should stop pushing you about it, huh."

"I'm not saying never," Kurt said. "I'm saying I need time, and that he needs time as well. And then, who knows? Maybe we will end up together. But it has to happen at my speed."

"Makes sense," Finn said.

There was another pause, and then Kurt said seriously, "Finn, you can't ever tell Dave – or anyone else – what I just told you. He's dealing with enough already, and he does _not_ need to be carrying around the extra guilt of something like this. I'm his friend, and I'm the person he can lean on when he needs support, and I'm the one he can talk to who actually gets what he's going through right now. That's not going to change. I'll be there for him for as long as he wants me to be, and I don't want him thinking he can't come to me because of my residual fear. He deserves better than that."

"I won't," Finn said. "I promise. I know I can be kind of dumb about things, but I know better than to say anything."

 _Too fucking late_ , Dave thought bitterly. At least he rated above a month of terror.

The car slowed and turned off into a brightly lit lot, the overhead lights shining through Dave's closed eyelids. He heard the sound of a window rolling down, and then the rustling of someone turning around to look at him.

"Dave?" Kurt said quietly, then in a louder voice, "Dave?"

He made himself sit up slowly, blinking muzzily as if he'd just been awoken. It was an act he'd perfected in middle school that his mother had never failed to fall for. "Hzwhuh?" he mumbled.

"We're at the drive-thru," Kurt said. "Do you want an ice cream?" He was twisted around in his seat and looking at Dave with an open, friendly smile, not a trace of fear or mistrust anywhere on his face. But then, there wouldn't be. There never was.

"Yeah," he said, and he hoped that he could pass off the slight roughness of his voice as sleep and not as the deep unhappiness that was biting at him. "Please. Chocolate and vanilla swirl."

"Coming right up," Kurt said, and when he turned around again to give their orders to the intercom Dave collapsed back down onto the seats, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

Kurt never showed any sign that he was scared of Dave. Ever since he'd crossed that damned line, Kurt had been his fucking rock, and he'd just taken it for granted that everything was fine once Kurt had accepted his apology. He should have realized. He really, really should have realized. But Kurt –

 _Kurt said he really did forgive me._

 _He said he liked me a lot._

 _He said he'd be there for me._

 _He said – he said 'maybe.'_

His spirits lifted slightly. He wasn't entitled to anything from Kurt, but Kurt said 'maybe,' and Dave had to cling to that hope with both hands and hope to God he didn't screw it up. He couldn't change how Kurt felt just by snapping his fingers, but maybe – _Thank God he said 'maybe'_ – if he kept being himself and not doing anything to make him afraid – he'd be able to prove to Kurt that he was the last person in the world who needed to be afraid of him.

 _He said 'maybe.'_

* * *

You see what you make me do? The incredible response to this story has had me doing nothing but eating, sleeping, and writing for the past several days. I blame you all.

...Feedback is still totally appreciated.


	10. A New Definition of Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the last Monday of November, as Dave was walking down the math hall from Algebra II to his French class, Kurt rushed over, grabbed his arm, and yanked him into the nearest classroom. "Ohmygod," he said, looking for all the world like he was seconds away from breaking into an ecstatic victory dance. "Oh. My god." Mr. Farrell, the Algebra I teacher, looked up in bemusement from behind his desk where he was grading papers.

On the last Monday of November, as Dave was walking down the math hall from Algebra II to his French class, Kurt rushed over, grabbed his arm, and yanked him into the nearest classroom. "Ohmygod," he said, looking for all the world like he was seconds away from breaking into an ecstatic victory dance. "Oh. My god." Mr. Farrell, the Algebra I teacher, looked up in bemusement from behind his desk where he was grading papers.

"Not that it isn't good to see you, but we have class together in –" Dave checked his watch. "Six minutes. If we're late you know Warren's going to call on us for every answer the whole period."

"Ce n'est pas comme si nous ne connaissions pas les réponse," Kurt said. "And it can't wait."

"Okay," he said. "Tell me on the way?"

"If you insist," Kurt said, and dragged Dave out the way they'd come in. He smiled brilliantly at Dave. "You'll never guess what just happened."

 _What happened is you grabbed my arm and you smiled at me like that and you make it really, really hard to not want to grab you back but for a hug instead and I promised myself, 'No sudden moves,' because I don't want to make you nervous and you have me trying to guess what's behind every gesture you make toward me but really it's just nice because I know you touch your friends like this and if you're touching me like this it means you really do like me the way you said in the car Friday before last. Also it's kinda hot that you grew like five inches over the summer and are actually tall enough to drag me around like this, not that I'm resisting or whatever, but I'm trying not to think about that too hard because it makes me think about my huge pathetic crush on you which is apparently so obvious that even Finn Hudson noticed it._ God. He shouldn't have had that extra shot of espresso in his latte this morning. This much Kurt-related brain activity before lunch was too complicated.

"Probably not," he said. "Wanna just tell me?"

"You're taking all the fun out of this," Kurt said, letting go of Dave's arm.

Dave elbowed him gently. "Spit it out."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Kurt said. He paused dramatically, and once Dave had schooled his face into an appropriately curious expression, he said, "Dad and Carole got engaged!"

"Whoa." He smiled back at Kurt. "I'd ask how you feel but it's kinda obvious."

"They're going to have a winter wedding," Kurt said as they clattered down the stairs, pushing their way through a pack of freshmen all heading up to the math hall together. "So it will most likely be right after Sectionals."

"Sectionals?" Dave asked. "That a Glee competition?"

"Exactly," Kurt said. "It's the first level of competitions. If we make it through Sectionals, then we advance to Regionals, and if we win at Regionals this year – we didn't even place last year, it was an absolute tragedy – then we go on to Nationals." He laughed at himself quietly and added, "It's being held in New York City this year, so Rachel and I have gone a bit out of our heads at the idea. Well, all of us have, really, but mostly it's the two of us."

"Broadway," Dave said knowingly.

"It's as if you read my mind," Kurt said. "But back to the wedding. They've decided on early December – which is a terrible idea, if you ask me, as I'll have next to no time to collaborate with their wedding planner due to all our pre-Sectionals rehearsals – and then they'll take a honeymoon for a week to someplace warm. They'll be home with plenty of time to celebrate Christmas with us in the new house."

Dave stumbled slightly, but recovered before Kurt could notice. "New house?" he echoed, glad his voice didn't betray the way his breath caught in his chest at Kurt's casual announcement.

"Of course," Kurt said. "With Carole and Finn officially joining the family, our house is too small for all of us to live together. We tried it once, and it didn't work out. Finn and I can't share a room at all. Even though we're getting along now, we'd still drive each other completely mad within the space of a week."

They arrived at the French III classroom, and Dave reached around Kurt to open the door for him. He immediately berated himself for it – no sudden movements, no coming up from behind him, no acting obviously about how he felt, those were the rules he'd set himself and he'd just broken all three – and glanced at Kurt quickly to make sure he hadn't inadvertently scared him. Kurt, thank goodness, looked happy and relaxed, mind off in pleasant daydreams about the upcoming wedding. They made their way over to where Azimio was sitting and took their seats, unzipping backpacks and unbuckling book bags to get out their binders and textbooks.

 _They're moving house_. Dave barely registered the bell ringing for class to start. _They're moving because it's going to be too crowded. It's too crowded with four people. I'm a fifth person. That makes whatever house they get for a family of four still too crowded._

"Hey," Azimio whispered, leaning forward across his desk to nudge Dave. "You okay, bro?"

"Fine," Dave said absently. _I'm being stupid. They wouldn't get a house with enough room for some kid they've known for less than three weeks. It wouldn't make sense. I cost too much to feed, too, I bet. No. They'll be nice about it, and give me time to find someone else to live with, but there's no way they're gonna keep putting up with my freeloading ass for long._

TEAOMAL

The second the bell rang, Kurt stood, whipped out his cell phone, and punched in a number. "Rachel!" he said crisply as soon as she picked up. "Choir room, five minutes, be there. I need a favor." He paused and laughed at something she said. "No, I'm talking to the other Rachel dating Finn who's in Glee with me. Yes. A favor. I will owe you. Get there, now."

He looked at Dave and tilted his head at the door in invitation, slinging his book bag over his shoulder. "Want to watch me teach two very uncoordinated people how to waltz?"

"Yeah," Dave said instantly. "Of course." Worries clouding his mind or not, he found it next to impossible to say no to Kurt, even when it wasn't even a direct request. "Let me guess, your dad 'n Finn?"

"You're good," Kurt said with mock-admiration. "Now come on. I don't know how long Finn will wait for me before he gets cold feet and decides to give me a rain check."

Azimio handed Dave his backpack. "Have fun with the free floor show," he said. "I'll see you at practice."

"I'll be there," Dave said, and he walked out the door after Kurt.

They'd almost reached the staircase when Kurt grabbed his arm again. "Look!" he said, nodding at a small knot of freshmen. For a moment, Dave didn't see what had caught Kurt's eye. Then one of the girls turned in his direction and he got it. Pinned to a backpack strap was one of Rachel's rainbow ribbons. The only boy in the group took off his cap to run his fingers through his hair, and Dave recognized him as the A/V kid who'd also crossed the line with him on Challenge Day. Apparently satisfied with his hairdo, he put his cap back on, and this time Dave saw that he had a pride button pinned to the left side.

Dave stared. "No way."

"Way!" Kurt said, and he laughed happily, loud enough to catch the attention of the freshmen. Their eyes went wide as they recognized the two of them – it wasn't like there were any other out upperclassmen guys and even in a big school that tended to get you noticed – and after a second, the boy grinned and the girl with the rainbow ribbon gave them a thumb's up, beaming when Kurt and Dave returned the gesture. Kurt gave them a friendly wave goodbye and pulled Dave away, letting go once Dave started to follow him down the stairs again.

"Holy shit," Dave said. "You were right." It was just a couple of freshmen, but still – he'd never thought it would actually work like Rachel and Kurt said it would.

"Evidence that I should never be doubted," Kurt said, practically glowing. "I need to have words with our dear Miss Berry immediately." He picked up speed, taking the stairs two at a time to the floor below and practically jogging down the hall. Dave kept pace with him, too curious as to what he wanted to say to take it slowly.

Rachel was already inside the choir room with Finn and Burt when they arrived, sitting on a chair on the lowest riser and flirting lightly with her boyfriend. Kurt stopped just outside the door to pull a furious expression onto his face before throwing the door the rest of the way open and storming in.

"Rachel!" he snapped.

She jumped in her chair and whirled around to face him, startled. "Yes?" she said, standing. She blithely ignored the scowl on Kurt's face, smiling brightly, and continued in a syrupy sweet voice, "How may I help you?"

"You," Kurt said, striding across the room to stick his finger in her face accusingly, "Need to stop doing things that make me like you. It complicates things."

She smiled even wider at that. "Don't you want to be my friend, Kurt?" she asked with a faint hitch in her voice, as if he'd wounded her deeply. Burt and Finn, who were seated behind her and couldn't see her face, looked concerned, but Dave smiled and shook his head, and they settled back down.

"That way lies madness," Kurt said gravely. Despite the frown he was wearing, the corners of his mouth were twitching uncontrollably.

Rachel shook her head sadly. "Then I suppose we're doomed to have a contentious relationship as highly competitive rivals who know no other peer," she said. "It will be legendary."

"We'll go down in history," Kurt agreed, "Providing we don't kill each other before our careers even take wing."

At that, they both began laughing, and Kurt held out his right hand. "Shall we provide a demonstration before we attempt to instruct our pupils?" he asked.

"But of course," she said, putting her own right hand in his and letting him lead her out onto the floor. Kurt counted off the beats softly, and at his nod, they began dancing gracefully around the confined space, his left hand on her waist and hers resting on his shoulder.

" _One_ , two, three, _one_ , two, three," Kurt counted. "Step-step-together, step-step-together."

"This is a basic box step," Rachel said. "It's quite honestly the simplest dance step you'll ever learn."

"You can see that every move I make is mirrored by my partner," Kurt said. "When I step forward she steps back, and when I step to the right –"

"She steps left," Burt said.

"Exactly," Rachel said. "It's important that you don't look at your feet as you dance," she added. "You might think it's helping you to figure out what you're doing, but it will throw off your rhythm and balance."

"I think that's enough to start with, don't you?" Kurt asked Rachel. She nodded, and they stepped apart. "Why don't you see what you can hammer into your unbelievably uncoordinated boyfriend's head, and I'll tackle the challenge of my father?"

"Absolutely," she chirped, and threw a friendly wink over her shoulder to Dave. "This should prove interesting."

Rachel and Kurt tugged their respective students onto the floor, and Dave took a seat on the piano bench to watch as the first stage of wedding preparations began. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to learn to dance, but the fact that he hadn't even been offered a lesson drove home just how little he belonged in their neat little family unit. Rachel would probably be invited as Finn's date –

"Ow!" she yelped. "It's forward-right-back, not forward-right-forward!"

"Sorry!" Finn said hurriedly.

– And Kurt would probably invite Mercedes –

"Stop looking at your feet," Kurt said patiently. "If you do this at the wedding you'll make Carole trip."

"It's harder than it looks," Burt said.

– Which didn't seem to leave a whole lot of possibility that Dave would get an invitation as well. It's not like it should have come as any surprise. He'd only been staying with them for a little under three weeks, after all, and it wasn't like he was someone they'd planned on taking care of. A spur of the moment decision on a Wednesday night didn't make him a part of their family.

He shouldn't be disappointed. He knew that. And it shouldn't have come as a surprise. He knew that too.

 _So why does it hurt so much?_

A tinny version of "Telephone" suddenly split the air, and Kurt dropped his dad's hand to pull his phone from his pocket. "Keep practicing the box step," he said, and retreated to the door to answer the phone. He spoke quietly, but Dave could hear every word, and Kurt just smiled when he noticed him listening in. _Okay, then. This one won't be something I'm not supposed to hear._

"Hello," he said, smiling. "No, you caught me at lunch. Now, what has you calling me before school is even out?" He stopped to listen to whoever was on the other end, and said with a tinge of regret, "That sounds like it would be delightful, but I'm rather swamped at the moment. Two extracurricular activities and my dad's impending marriage don't leave me with much time." Another pause. "Yes, married! Dad proposed this morning. It's so romantic."

He cast a happy glance at his dad, who was twirling slowly around holding his arms out as if embracing his fiancée. "I – no, I really appreciate the thought, but I don't actually need to escape reality for an evening. My life is…well, it's going wonderfully, to be honest." He frowned slightly at whatever the other person said in response. "I mean that sincerely. This isn't the same school that it was a month ago – call me an optimist, or deluded, but things are changing. We even have a GSA on campus now." There was another pause, and Kurt said somewhat snippily, "Fifteen. I think that counts as a large group, don't you?" He sighed and said after a moment, "It's alright. I'm sorry I got defensive."

He looked at Dave again and gave him another smile, saying to the other person, "He's doing well. Thank you for asking." _It can't be him._ Kurt laughed quietly. "No, you're still very much persona non grata." _Okay, it's probably him._ "Well, what did you expect?" Kurt asked after listening to the other person. "You showed up to confront him _on the stairs_ during passing period."

 _Yup. It's him._ "Tell him his advice sucks, too," Dave said.

"And he thinks your advice to me wasn't particularly good," Kurt relayed. "Actually, he says it sucked." He laughed again. "If the two of you never cross paths again it will be too soon, I think."

"Kurt," Burt called. "I was promised a dance lesson."

"Listen, can I call you back? I'm kind of in the middle of something right now," Kurt said. Blaine must have said yes, because Kurt followed up with, "Great. Have a good week, then." Another short pause, and he said, "Goodbye," and hung up.

"Where were we?" he asked, walking back over to his dad.

"Somewhere around 'Don't trip Carole,'" Burt said.

"Yes, don't forget that one," Kurt said. He moved back into position and they began to practice again. "That may just be the most important part."

Dave rested an elbow on the closed lid of the piano keys and watched as Kurt, happy, smiling, delighted Kurt, danced around the room with his father. This – their unbelievable hospitality, and the incomparable feeling of belonging somewhere again – might be over soon, but he still had Kurt, and he still had 'maybe,' and maybe – _there's that word again_ – that could be enough.

He hoped it could be enough.

TEAOMAL

After getting home from practice, Dave and Kurt grabbed a quick dinner in the kitchen before moving to the living room to work on their homework together as they usually did. Dave couldn't bring himself to participate in the easy conversation that usually flowed between the two of them, his stomach too tied in knots for him to focus on more than just plowing through his assignments as fast as he could. He knew he should try to enjoy his time at the Hummels while he could, but the thought that every day here might be the one they decided to ask him to leave was running through his mind on repeat.

He wrapped up his last homework assignment and excused himself quietly to go back up to the study he was using as a room, doing his best to ignore Kurt's concerned look. He fully intended to take the time to work out who his best bet was for letting him couch surf for a while after Kurt and Burt moved out, but when he saw his half-unpacked boxes in the corner, however, and the open closet where his clothes were hanging, the will to do so fled his body, and he sat heavily on the side of the foldout bed, holding his head in his hands.

 _Kurt said it was my home too._ But Kurt was just a high school student like him, and it wasn't a decision he could make for Burt and Carole. It had been nice – really, really nice – while it had lasted. And he'd always be grateful that they'd taken him in for as long as they had. But he shouldn't have been naïve enough to believe the word of someone he was only a few months older than when it came to something as important as whether or not it really was his home too.

"What's going on?"

Dave looked up at Burt's voice. He was standing in the doorway, watching Dave with faint concern. "Nothing," he said quickly.

"I know what nothing usually means when a teenager says it," Burt said. "It means a lot's going on. Now I know you have a lot on your plate right now, so it could be any number of things, but Kurt tells me he thinks this is different. So why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"

"Just – could you let me find someone first, before you move?" Dave asked. "I mean – not that I think you won't, but it might take a while. I'll try Brittany and Santana first, but I dunno if their folks would let me since I'm a guy, even with me being gay and all. Maybe Anthony, but his house is pretty small."

"Hold up," Burt said, smiling slightly. "'Find someone?' What do you think we're going to do, throw you out as soon as the movers show up?" Dave didn't answer, and Burt sobered. "You do think that," he said.

Dave shrugged. "Aren't you?" he asked. "You'll have this new living situation, and you'll all want to figure out how you work as a family. I don't – I don't fit into that, and it's okay, but I know this will be over sooner or later."

"Ah, Christ, kid," Burt said. He took a seat on the bed beside Dave. "No. No, we wouldn't throw you out. We told you right from the start you could stay as long as you wanted, didn't we? We still mean that."

"But it's not just you 'n Kurt," he pointed out. "What if –"

"Carole agrees with us," Burt interrupted. "And so does Finn."

"I – really?" Dave asked, his throat tight. His eyes prickled.

Burt nodded. "We all want you here," he said. "I know that when the wedding's over Kurt and Carole are going to sit you down and make you pick out paint and furniture for your room. And it is your room, Dave, not a guest room."

"But it's too much," Dave protested. "That – it costs too much. You're already spending extra on groceries for me. You can't just buy me all that stuff. It should go to something more important."

"Son, have you seen this house?" Burt asked. "I don't work at the garage because I have to. That's something I do because I enjoy it. We have more than enough money to take care of an extra person thanks to the tire store. And as for more important, what's more important than keeping a kid fed and putting a roof over his head?"

"You can't –" he started to say again. "You don't need –"

Burt put his arm around Dave's shoulders and pulled him in closer. "I know it's not the home you want," he said, "But it's still yours, whether you like it or not."

Dave turned his head away from Burt and scrubbed at his eyes, mortified at the tears leaking from them. "Thanks," he said in a thick voice. "I still feel like a mooch, though."

"Any way I can convince you otherwise?" Burt asked, and when Dave shook his head he said, "In that case, I was planning on hiring someone on at the garage to help do inventory and answer the phone. We can train you up to work on the cars, too, when we don't have big jobs. How does that sound?"

Dave suspected Burt had just made that up on the spot, but gratitude overrode any desire to press for the truth. "And you'll take what I make and use it for food and anything else you're spending on me?" he asked.

"If you insist," Burt said. He stood and smiled down at Dave. "And this'll be the last I hear of us kicking you out, or you being a burden?"

Dave managed to give him a somewhat watery smile in return. "Okay."

"Alright then," Burt said. He passed Kurt coming in on his way out and told his son, "I'm going to watch Dirty Jobs on the flatscreen, so if you and Dave want to watch something down in your room, the door –"

"Stays open," Kurt chorused along with him. Burt chuckled and walked off down the hallway. Kurt entered the study, looking Dave over closely. He turned his face away again, not wanting Kurt to see that he'd been crying.

"Come here," Kurt said after a moment. Dave looked back up to find Kurt looking back at him with empathy. He beckoned, and Dave got to his feet, walking over slowly. "I'm not going to bite," Kurt said, rolling his eyes when Dave stopped a foot out of arm's reach.

Dave stepped closer, and Kurt closed the rest of the distance himself to pull him into a strong hug. He hesitated for a moment, unsure what to do with his hands, and Kurt, his chin resting on Dave's shoulder, said, "It generally works better when there's reciprocity."

He heaved a shuddery sigh and wrapped his arms around Kurt, squeezing him as tight as he thought he could without hurting him. "Thank you," he muttered into the side of Kurt's head. _Hug number two_ , he thought, and he closed his eyes, committing it to memory. It was even better than the one Kurt had given him on Challenge Day – of course, he wasn't a blubbering wreck for this one, which improved his ability to appreciate a good hug immensely.

"It's one of the many high quality services I provide to my friends," Kurt said, and with a last firm squeeze to Dave's ribs, he let go and stepped back. "I won't ask what made you upset," he said. "I'm pretty sure I know the answer, anyway. But you do know you can talk to me, right?"

"Yeah," Dave said. "I know." He stepped back as well, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets so he wouldn't be tempted to reach for Kurt again. _At his speed. Not mine._ "I just get worried. A lot."

"A lot has happened," Kurt said. "No one's going to blame you for getting worried or emotional."

"I know," he said again.

Kurt looked at him earnestly. "There's something you ought to know about the Hummels," he said. "When we make a promise, we keep it. And Dave, I promise that you will never be homeless as long as we're around. Do you believe me?"

Dave looked into Kurt's eyes, so calm and confident and projecting total sincerity. "Yeah," he said. "I believe you."

"Good," Kurt said. "Now remind me. Is it a zombie night or a musical night?"

"Last one was 'Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things,'" Dave said. "So, musical."

"I believe I have just the thing," Kurt said. "How do you feel about the Beatles?"

"Kinda dated, but I like their music," Dave said.

"In that case," Kurt said, "We're going to make popcorn, go downstairs, and watch 'A Hard Day's Night.' And you will put up with me singing along to the songs, and I will _make_ you tell me which one of the Fab Four you find the most attractive under those godawful haircuts. And you will have fun, and when you go to bed tonight you will go to bed happy."

Dave cracked a smile at that. "That's a pretty tall order."

"Not to worry," Kurt said. "Filling tall orders is my specialty."

 _You're selling yourself short,_ Dave thought as he followed Kurt down the stairs to the kitchen for popcorn. _You don't fill tall orders. You're a goddamned miracle worker._

* * *

Feedback is, as always, much appreciated.

Translation: "It's not as if we don't know the answers."

Note: From here on out this story will be hitting many of the major plot points that occurred during the canon Season 2, albeit in a rather different manner (it is an AU, after all).


	11. Texts from This Thursday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or: A day in the life of Dave Karofsky without Kurt

Or: A day in the life of Dave Karofsky without Kurt

* * *

It was just plain weird driving to school and seeing Kurt's Navigator already in the parking lot on Thursday, Kurt having left early to meet the rest of the Glee Club for the ride to the Sectionals competition in Westerville. There'd been no one to talk to on the drive over, and no matter how loud he turned up the volume on the radio it hadn't seemed to drown out the silence coming from the empty passenger seat. _It almost feels like I'm back to high school B.K._ Before Kurt. Not a time he ever wanted to return to. The school day hadn't even started yet and it already felt off.

Azimio met him at the doors to the English hall again. "Think you lost some weight, bro," he said with a smirk.

"Lost some – no, I don't think so," Dave said. It hit him and he groaned. "This is a joke, isn't it?" he asked. "And I'm gonna be the punch line."

Undaunted, Azimio finished with, "Because it looks like you lost your other half."

Dave shouldered the door open and shook his head. "Low blow, man. And it's not that bad."

"Good effort," Azimio said, following him into the hall. "Now try saying it like you mean it."

"Why am I friends with you again?" he asked.

"Because you just can't get this kind of quality teasing anywhere else," Azimio said. "If you didn't have me 'n Rashad, no one would have the balls to give you crap about your love life."

"That'd be nice. And I don't have one."

"Boring," Azimio dismissed.

"Maybe I like boring," Dave said.

Azimio laughed loudly. "Bullshit you like boring."

Dave's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to read the incoming text.

 **Just took off. Santana is  
a total pill before getting  
her daily caffeine fix.**

"Yeah," Dave said, his fingers already punching keys to send a reply, "Boring's overrated."

 _  
**Lol Im sorry. Her w/o  
the humor or sex  
refrences sounds  
scary.**   
_

"Look at that," Azimio said, shaking his head sadly. "One text and you just gained all that extra person back."

"Bite me, asshole," Dave said, good humor restored.

"Already had breakfast, but don't think I don't appreciate the offer," Azimio said. "So I guess GSA isn't happening today?"

"We're down thirteen people and an advisor," Dave said. "Yeah, it's cancelled for the day."

A short, skinny girl with stick-straight black hair stumbled into Dave's chest, and he reached out automatically to steady her. "You okay?" he asked, letting go as she regained her balance.

She looked up nervously, apparently having seen the letterman's jacket first, but her expression cleared when she saw who he was. Dave, for his own part, was surprised to recognize the sophomore from his math class who'd come out on Challenge Day. "I'm fine," she said shyly. "I just tripped."

"More like got tripped," Azimio said, looking down the hall to where Pete McCarthy, a varsity linebacker, was standing and watching. She flushed.

"It happens sometimes," she said.

"It shouldn't," Dave told her firmly.

Azimio tipped her a conspiratorial nod. "Watch this. Hey McCarthy!" he called out, cupping his hands around his mouth. "You dropped your stupid!"

McCarthy looked down automatically, and when Dave and Azimio cracked up, he scowled and stalked off down the hall. The girl giggled.

"See? He's not so scary," Dave said. "I mean, he's big, but he's dumber than a sack of rocks."

"Thanks," she said, smiling up at them. "I don't know if you remember me or not, but –"

"From Challenge Day," he said. "And you're in Algebra with me. But, uh, I don't know your name."

"Sophie Chou," she said, "And I know who you are. Well, everyone does, I think."

"Notoriety at last, bro," Azimio said, smacking him on the back.

"When I said I wanted everyone to know who I was, I meant I wanted people to know I kicked ass at football," Dave said. "Not that I was that one gay jock." But it didn't sting as much as it had even a couple weeks ago.

"Given the size of the school, it's highly unlikely that you are 'that one gay jock,'" Sophie said. "Statistically speaking, I mean. And I've been meaning to ask you, but where did all of you get those cool buttons? I've been seeing them around, but I don't know where to go to get one myself."

"It's a GSA thing," Dave said. "We're trying to get people outside the club to wear 'em, too. I'd go to Rachel Berry to get one, but there's a bag full of 'em in the choir room and in Schuester's desk if she's still too scary to deal with."

She shuddered. "I'll ask Mr. Schuester, thanks."

The two minute warning bell rang, and Azimio thumped him on the back again. "I gotta jet, bro. Catch you in French."

"You bet," Dave said. He looked down at Sophie, who was fidgeting nervously. "English Ten?"

"In One-Oh-Four," she said.

"I'm in One-Oh-Six," Dave said. "Want to walk together?"

Sophie sagged with relief. "Yes. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he said casually. "Gotta stick together, don't we?"

She lit up like a Christmas tree at that, and Dave smiled to himself. It was taking some doing, but he felt like he was finally getting a handle on this whole "being out" thing.

TEAOMAL

The second text came as he was walking from English to Algebra.

 **Still in the van. Puck  
and Sam are trying to  
play Dueling Banjos on  
their guitars. My ears  
are bleeding.**

He laughed, narrowly avoiding knocking over a freshman as he eagerly typed in a reply.

 _  
**U glee kids have  
a weird defenition  
of fun.**   
_

The response was almost instantaneous.

 **We prefer the term  
"gleek," thank you  
very much. Or if you  
want to break it down  
by our other extra-  
curriculars, "gleerio"  
and "glock" work just  
as well.**

At that, he laughed loudly enough to startle a passing group of sophomores.

"Nice to see you in good spirits, Karofsky," Coach Beiste said, pausing as she was walking past him. "Having a good morning?"

Dave held up his phone. "Just something funny my friend sent me. Did you know the glee guys on the team call themselves 'glocks?'"

She chuckled. "I didn't, but it doesn't surprise me. And hey – nice playing against Roosevelt last Friday. You keep stopping those runs and passes like you have this season and you'll make a name for yourself pretty quickly."

"Thanks, Coach," Dave said, surprised and pleased. _A name for myself? That isn't McKinley's gay jock? Sounds almost too good to be true – but if Beiste thinks I can, then maybe she's right._

"Just keep it up," she said. "And get to class. Can't have one of my starters getting himself on academic probation."

"On my way," he said, and walked off to class carrying himself a little taller. _I'm making a name for myself. That's – that's really awesome._

TEAOMAL

No sooner was he out the door when Algebra let out than his phone buzzed, signaling another text from Kurt.

 **We have arrived! In  
the Green Room now,  
waiting for our turn.  
Wish us luck!**

Dave sent off a quick response.

 _  
**Not like u need it  
but good luck anyway!**   
_

"Hey!" someone called out. He turned to see the sturdily built girl from the Cheerios jogging down the hall toward him, her backpack bouncing up and down as she ran.

"Hey yourself," he said, racking his brain for her name. _Sylvester called her Chubs – oh god, I can't call her Chubs. What did Santana say her name was? Kelly? Kira? Kim!_

"I'm headed to Latin," she said as she skidded to a halt at his side. "You?"

"French," Dave said. "What's up?"

"Two things," she said, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow and strolling down the stairs with him. "I want to smack you upside the head, for one."

"What'd I do?" Dave asked, confused. Was this a belated 'I hate you for making so-and-so's life miserable' thing? He could do that if she wanted, but she seemed way too cheerful for that to be the case.

"Coach Sylvester went on a rant at our early morning practice session for the tumblers today. Apparently she'd seen one too many gay pride ribbons while roaming the halls yesterday looking for fresh victims to terrorize," Kim said. "Not sure how less than a dozen counts as too many, but whatever."

"I'm…sorry?" Dave asked uncertainly.

"So anyway," Kim said, ignoring his less than stellar apology, "She came into the gym in a rage – apparently she's allergic to goodwill and unity – and demanded to know when she'd woken up in a High School Musical spinoff."

"A what?"

"She called it The Epic Adventures of Meathead and Ladyface: Less Music, More Gay," Kim said. "She also told Becky to make a note for her to start buying Epi-Pens in bulk."

"So she was in a worse mood than usual?" Dave asked, and at Kim's nod he winced. "Ouch. In that case, I really am sorry. So – what's the other thing?"

"The other thing is I wanted to thank you," she said. "When my brother came home from Ohio State last weekend, I told him over dinner about you and the new GSA and everything – and he came out to us right there at the dinner table."

"Wow," Dave said. "How'd your folks take it?"

"It was a little awkward, but by the time he left on Sunday Mom was insisting that he bring his boyfriend with him next time." She grinned. "So thanks."

"You're welcome," Dave said. He laughed under his breath. "I've never been called a positive influence on anybody before."

"You're moving on up, sweetie," she said playfully. "Next stop, sainthood."

"I hope not," he said. "Saints always seem to die really painful deaths."

"Point," she said. "Well, here's where I get off." She released her hold on his arm and went on tiptoe to give him a smacking kiss on the cheek. "Toodles!"

He watched her breeze into the Latin classroom, utterly dumbfounded. _When the hell did I stop being intimidating?_

TEAOMAL

At lunch Dave and Azimio took their trays out to the quad to eat with Rashad, who'd claimed a table out near the steps. "I hear you have separation anxiety," Rashad greeted him. "How's that working out for you?"

"Really?" Dave asked Azimio. "What the hell, man?"

"I didn't say anything that wasn't true," Azimio said virtuously.

"I don't have separation anxiety," Dave said, annoyed. "My day is going just fine. It's fine."

"Right," Rashad said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"It's better than fine," Dave said. "It's going great. A cheerleader laid one on me on the way to French. That puts me one up on both of you dicks."

"That would be something to brag about if you were straight," Azimio said. "But you're not. Face it, bro, chicks dig you now because you're never gonna want to get in their pants."

"See, you say your day's going great, but I'm just hearing 'I'm lovesick and I miss Hummel,'" Rashad said.

"My day is going fine," Dave said. "And seriously, I'm not fucking lovesick."

"And now we're back to fine," Rashad said. "What happened to great?"

Dave's phone buzzed in his pocket, and Azimio snickered. "You gotta watch this," he told Rashad. "Guess how long it's gonna take him to reach for it?"

"Seconds?" Rashad guessed.

Dave glared, holding both hands on the table and resolutely _not_ reaching for his cell phone. "I _don't_ have separation anxiety," he said firmly. "I'm having a normal day and I feel fine."

They just stared at him expectantly. "Any second now," Azimio said.

Dave's hand twitched.

"Yup," Rashad said. "Caving in five, four, three, two –"

"Oh, fuck you both," Dave said, digging into his pocket for his phone as his friends guffawed. "I need new friends." He flipped it open to read the newest message from Kurt.

 **We tied with the  
Warblers. Not the  
outcome we'd hoped  
for, but we're still  
going to Regionals. :D**

He smiled at the message, and they laughed harder. "You're totally gone on him," Rashad said. "Big, bad Dave Karofsky, in lurve."

"Seriously, go to hell," Dave said, keying in his reply.

 _  
**Congrats! Thats  
awesome! When  
R U coming back?**   
_

"Can you blame us?" Rashad asked. "You've never shown this much interest in anyone before. Ever."

"I can and I do," Dave said. "And if you've already forgotten, I was a closet case before. Who was I gonna show interest in?" His phone buzzed again, and he quickly opened Kurt's newest message.

 **Be back in time for  
practice, but I'll miss 6**   
**th**   
**  
period. See you after!**

"Sorta goes to show that you're a way better actor than anyone woulda thought," Azimio said. "Which doesn't seem possible since you don't have a poker face."

"Or game," Rashad said. "Now, take me for example. I met Mercedes. I flirted with Mercedes. And now I'm dating Mercedes, because aside from being the luckiest bastard on the planet, I got game, and you don't."

"More like you never shoved her into lockers or threatened to beat her up," Dave said. "It's the kind of stuff that gets in the way of that whole 'I'm really into you, wanna go out with me?' thing."

Azimio and Rashad shared a look that lacked the humor of the past several minutes.

"Yeah, you done fucked up, bro," Azimio said.

Dave dropped his head to the table and banged it lightly against the plastic-coated metal surface a few times, groaning. "No need to tell me that."

"I'm going to be the most awesome friend ever and take a break from giving you shit to point a couple things out to you," Rashad said. "And then we'll never speak of this again, because talking about feelings is not something I do. You listening?" Dave nodded. "Who outside of that Glee Club does Kurt hang out with?"

Dave thought for a moment. He never saw Kurt with anyone, really. He mainly stuck to the other Glee kids – _Ha, the Gleeks_ – but he was well liked enough in French. Maybe some of the kids in there? And he seemed to know how to dance pretty well, so maybe he had friends from taking dance classes.

"You, dumbass," Rashad said when Dave didn't respond. " _You_ are the only person outside of Glee that Kurt spends any real time with. I don't know about you, but that doesn't say 'I hate being around you' to me."

"I know that," Dave said. "He's – we're friends now. And that's pretty cool, but –"

"But you wanna hit fast forward," Rashad said. "Yeah, been there. Anyway, next point. Did you ask him to text you about the competition today?"

Dave shook his head. "No," he said. "He just told me he'd keep me updated."

Again Rashad stared at him expectantly.

"And?" Dave asked. "What's your point with that one?"

"My point," Rashad said, "Is that _that_ is what folks tend to call 'mutual respect and affection.' So fuck fast forward, man. What you have right here, it's good. And to be completely honest, if I was in his shoes it's way more than you'd be getting from me." At Dave's slow nod of agreement, he said, "So are we done with the heart to heart? Because if we keep going much longer I'm gonna have to go pick a fight with one of those fuckwit puckheads to recover."

Dave laughed at that, but collected himself quickly. "No, I just have one thing." He looked both Azimio and Rashad in the eyes, doing his best to convey how grateful he was. "Thank you. For not being weird about this. I always figured the best I could hope for was you wouldn't care, but you'd never wanna know about anything past just me being gay. So – thank you for just acting like it's normal."

"Are you trippin', man?" Azimio asked, a look of patently false consternation on his face. "You're a jock with a crush on a cheerleader. You're a goddamn cliché. That's pretty much the definition of normal."

"He speaks the truth," Rashad said with a smirk. "Seriously though," he said, a rare note of sincerity in his voice, "Don't thank us for being your friends. It's insulting."

"Now shut up and eat your tots before they get cold," Azimio ordered him.

"Shutting up," Dave said. Rashad was right: what he had right now was good. Better than good, even. And it was honestly more than he thought he deserved, but he wasn't about to go pointing it out to Kurt. This, right here, sitting with his friends in the middle of the quad getting teased about having a crush on another guy – not being ostracized or alienated, not hiding in his panic room version of a metaphorical closet – was almost everything he'd ever wanted for himself. There were big things left, sure, like the elephant that followed him from room to room at the Hummels' place that none of them ever talked about so they wouldn't have to bring up why he was living with them, but other than that – _Other than missing my parents, god I miss my parents_ – he only had two things left on his list to make his last two years of high school perfect. Win a championship game, and date Kurt Hummel.

It was easier said than done. But then again –

They had an _awesome_ team this year, and the best coach they could ever hope to get.

And then there was Kurt, who dressed like he was at one of those fashion shows every day, who could take the girl's part in a song without any difficulty, who looked snobby and unapproachable and too damned cultured for Lima. Kurt, who also liked zombie movies, who stuck pencils behind his ear when he did homework, who had the weirdest, most infectious laugh ever, whose text messages were never misspelled, who gave the best hugs of anyone he knew. Kurt, who forgave so easily.

Kurt, who said 'maybe' and meant it.

And that was enough to give him hope.

"Hello there, little freshman," Rashad said, interrupting Dave's train of thought. He twisted in his seat to see the freshman boy with the pride button standing quietly by their table, shuffling his feet awkwardly. "Are you lost? Are you here to praise us as the football studs that we are?"

The kid blushed. "No, I just. Well. Can I ask you something?" he said, looking at Dave.

"Sure," Dave said, patting the seat beside him. "What's up?"

The kid hesitated, and Rashad laughed. "Sit. You're perfectly safe with us – we only sacrifice freshmen to Mars on the weekends. You know, to say thanks for the football victory and all that."

"Leave him alone," Dave said as the kid gingerly sat down next to him. "Out with it. What's going on? Better yet, what's your name, kid?"

"Cory," he said. "Cory Harnick."

"Alright, Cory Harnick," Dave said, "Let's hear it."

"This is exciting," Azimio said. "We get to see you being the Big Gay Mentor up close and in person."

"Your turn to shut up," Dave said. "Cory?"

"Um," Cory said. "I wanted to know – I was thinking about trying out for baseball. And I was wondering –"

"What it's like playing a sport and being out?" Dave finished. Cory nodded hesitantly. "I'm not gonna lie and tell you it's all wonderful and happy and that everyone gets along, because that's not how it is," he said. "There are always gonna be assholes. But there are people like that everywhere. And most of the guys who start shit are guys I didn't like in the first place."

"So should I go for it or not?" Cory asked.

"It's up to you," Dave said. "If you really wanna play, then do it. Don't let the jackasses on the team run you off. Stick with it, get better, earn their respect. You'll make friends, too. Good friends. And I think that you'll be glad you did it in the end."

Cory gave him a crooked grin. "Thanks." He made to get up, and Azimio waved him back down.

"Stay," he said. "You can tell all your little pals that you had lunch with some of the varsity players and didn't end up in a dumpster. Gives you something to brag about."

The kid flashed his crooked smile again. "Okay." Dave's phone buzzed again, and Rashad and Azimio laughed.

"Here we go again," Rashad said. "Know what Borchard would say you are? Besotted. That's what."

"I'm going to hurt you at practice," Dave told him as he flipped open his phone again.

 **Back in the van. Now  
Artie and Mercedes are  
trying to see who can  
sing the loudest. It  
wouldn't be so bad if  
they weren't singing  
different songs.**

"Your girlfriend is torturing Kurt," Dave said, punching in a reply.

 _  
**Yikes. U should  
bring earplugs next  
time. Or fight back.**   
_

"I'm sure she has a good reason," Rashad said.

"Wait," Cory said. "Is Kurt your boyfriend?" He looked utterly confused as Azimio and Rashad howled with laughter at his question, and Dave dropped his head back to the table to bang it again.

"You can both fuck off and die," he said. "When the hell is lunch over?"

TEAOMAL

Free period after US History passed by quickly thanks to the unbeatable combination of easy math homework – three variable linear equations, for crying out loud – and sporadic text messages from Kurt. The first came as he was walking into the library.

 **Rachel and I have joined  
forces to combat the  
fourteenth round of Who-  
Can-Sing-Loudest-In-An-  
Enclosed-Space. Finn's REM  
vs our Evita. We will crush him.**

Dave laughed out loud at that. The librarian frowned severely at him from behind her desk and put her index finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. "Sorry!" he mouthed at her, and went over to a table toward the back to sit before responding.

 _  
**Like a bug! Bring the  
pain!**   
_

Halfway through his homework assignment, another text arrived.

 **It's official. Glee  
makes people crazy.  
Or maybe it's that  
only crazy people  
join Glee.**

Dave bit his fist to keep from laughing and incurring the librarian's wrath.

 _  
**If u'd asked me  
I could of told U  
that. Its not news.  
Ur all nuts.**   
_

The next text came as he was changing into his practice gear.

 **Back. Coach is glaring  
so I have to ditch the  
phone.**

But the best one by far was the one that arrived as he was leaving the locker room with Azimio after practice, freshly showered and back in his street clothes.

 **I'm in the parking lot.  
Come congratulate me.**

"You know," Azimio said as Dave closed his phone, "It just doesn't seem right to give you as much crap as we've been giving you."

Dave shot him a sidelong look. "Why's that? Not complaining, but that's kinda out of left field."

His best friend shrugged and waved his hand vaguely at Dave's face. "You just sorta lit up right there. And I know I can be an asshole sometimes, but…I haven't seen you look that happy since – fuck, since elementary school, bro."

Dave thought for a moment, casting his mind back. He hadn't been happy his sophomore year, or his freshman year, and definitely not in middle school – _Goddamn._ "Yeah," he said simply. "I haven't been."

"I'm glad you are now," Azimio said.

"Me too," Dave said, and they walked the rest of the way out in silence, no further words needed. _Sometimes_ , Dave thought, _You drive me up the wall. But then you say something like that, and I know without a doubt that I won the best friend jackpot when we paired up for that science project in third grade._

When they reached the parking lot, Azimio nodded goodbye and left him where he was standing, heading off toward his own car. Dave scanned the lot, looking for Kurt and not seeing him anywhere. He was about to give up and text him when a tall, thin figure moved away from the nearest row of cars and stepped under the parking lot lights. And there he was, in tight black pants that made his legs look a mile long and a silly patterned jacket that would have looked ridiculous on anybody else but just seemed right on him, the light above him casting his face into sharp relief and highlighting those cheekbones and that jaw that Dave would swear hadn't been there sophomore year. His heart stopped for a moment, and then Kurt looked right at him and smiled that wide, wide smile of his, and it started again in double time.

 _Oh._

His phone was in his hand and open before he could even blink, and he typed into the message box with shaky fingers,

 _  
**I just realized Im kind  
of stupidly in love  
with you.**   
_

Then Kurt called out his name and reality reasserted itself. No. He couldn't send that. But –

 _  
**Save to Drafts?**   
_

' _Maybe.'_

 _ **Yes**_.

* * *

Like it? Love it? Have a bone to pick with me? Feedback is always appreciated!


	12. I Do's and Dance Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I adore you all, you get another chapter the day after. Best reviewers on the planet, seriously.

Because I adore you all, you get another chapter the day after. Best reviewers on the planet, seriously.

* * *

"Stop fussing," Kurt scolded Dave as he fidgeted awkwardly with the cuffs of his sleeves. "You look fine."

Kurt himself looked more than fine to Dave, lean and elegant in a black suit and tie with a red-yellow flower pinned to his lapel. He sat on the foldout bed – currently tucked back into sofa shape – fingers laced behind his head and feet propped up on a recently repacked cardboard box.

"I can't believe you of all people just told me to quit fussing over how I look," Dave said, laughing, but he left off tugging at his clothes.

"Someone had to," Kurt said, "And given that there's no one else here, that responsibility falls to me, however odd it may be to hear it from my lips and not someone less – well, less fussy." He grinned.

"Eh," Dave said, shoving a box out of the way to lounge against the wall. "Fussy works for you."

"Fussy is just another way of saying annoying and high maintenance," Kurt said. "But thank you anyway."

"Just take the compliment and pretend you don't think I mean annoying," Dave said.

"Will do," Kurt said. He looked around the room at all the boxes. "I can't believe we're actually moving."

"Weird?"

"Very weird," Kurt said. "We've lived here my whole life. It's strange to think that I'll have a new home to get used to."

Despite Kurt's original optimistic estimate, Christmas would be spent at the current Hummel home. Thanks to Burt and Carole's efficient house hunting skills and a very competent real estate agent, the new house had already been chosen and the seller had accepted their bid, but there were still several forms to fill out and deliver to the appropriate recipients, checks to be written, mortgages to be worked out…and that was just the boring part. Then there were rooms to be painted, furniture to be moved, boxes to unpack, and a dozen other projects that would keep them from being fully settled into the new house until January.

"Adjusting to a new home is pretty weird," Dave said, thinking of his own experience the first couple of weeks here at Kurt's house. He waved off Kurt's look of sympathy and said, "You know what else is weird? That we'll have this place to ourselves for a week while your dad and Carole are in Waikiki."

"And Finn," Kurt said, "Who will no doubt be over the moon about sleeping on the couch in the living room, since he loves it so much."

"If he loved it more Rachel would get jealous," Dave said.

"Very true," Kurt said. "Though as long as it doesn't suddenly develop an uncanny resemblance to Quinn I think he'll be safe from her wrath."

Dave laughed. "You're probably right, but I wouldn't bet on it. She's kinda unpredictable."

"Not really," Kurt said. "Once you know three basic things about Rachel, her behavior becomes ridiculously easy to predict."

"How so?"

"She wants all the solos, she's nuts about Finn, and her dads have the ACLU on speed dial," Kurt said. "She's a glory hound, a soppy romantic, albeit a jealous one when it comes to Finn, and an equal rights advocate. Pretty much everything that she does falls somewhere in those three categories."

"That really explains a whole lot," Dave said. "Anyway. Plans for tonight?"

"Finn's bringing 'Resident Evil' over," Kurt said, "And his Xbox. Apparently I've avoided learning how to play Guitar Hero for long enough, and now that we'll be family in a couple of hours he considers it his brotherly duty to make me play it with him."

"Sounds like a good Saturday night to me," Dave said. "And we're still on for bowling on Sunday with Rashad and Mercedes and all them?"

"If we're not, I haven't heard about it," Kurt told him. "And that reminds me; I've been wondering something. Why do you call Azimio by his first name and Anthony by his last? I've only ever heard you call him by his first name once. Aren't they both really good friends of yours?"

"Yeah," Dave said, "But there are six Anthonys at McKinley, and three of them are in our grade. Plus his last name's cooler than his first. _And_ we've been calling him that since eighth grade, so by now it's just a habit. Good explanation?"

"Very good. My curiosity is satisfied on that account," Kurt said. "And what's with the habit that all of you football players have of calling each other by your last names?"

"Football thing," Dave explained. "Finn is only Finn now because his mom and your dad are together, so he's over here all the time."

"I feel enlightened," Kurt said. "The closest we get to something like that on the Cheerios is by bonding through mutual agony over whatever horrible nickname Coach Sylvester saddles us with. Like Sappho," Kurt said. "Or Ladyface." He frowned. "She stuck me with that one last year."

"Before you had that growth spurt over the summer and got all…." Dave trailed off and made a vague gesture that could be interpreted as anything from 'unbelievably sexy' to 'this is how a tree grows' to 'it's wet, I'm opening my umbrella.' "You know. Billboard model-y." Kurt stared at him, blushing slightly, lips parted slightly in a surprised, pleased smile. Dave ducked his head. "She calls me Meathead," he offered, hoping to distract him.

Kurt gave him a knowing look, as if to say that he saw right through him, but he went along with it. "I'm going to give you the same belated advice that I received: never, ever get on Coach Sylvester's radar. Once you're on it, you're on it until you graduate."

"I could have used that advice about a month ago," Dave said. "Really."

"That's what I told Quinn," Kurt said. "To which she said no one ever finds out ahead of time." He glanced up at the clock and took his feet off his impromptu footstool to stand up. "We should head over. I have to meet with the rest of the Glee Club to run through the music one last time."

"Can I listen in?" Dave asked, following Kurt out into the hall and down the stairs.

"Why? Don't you want to have it be a surprise like it's going to be for the rest of the guests?" Kurt replied.

"If you insist," Dave said. "Just tell me: is it going to be cool?"

"It's going to be fantastic," Kurt said, throwing open the front door and doing a few impromptu dance steps. "It'll be the next big wedding entrance viral video on YouTube." Once Dave was standing next to him on the porch he turned and locked it, still bobbing his head to an inaudible beat.

"That's a pretty big claim," Dave said. "But can you deliver?"

Kurt winked and jumped the steps to the walkway, landing with a twirl before setting off with a jaunty stride to his car. "I haven't let you down yet, have I?" he tossed back over his shoulder.

 _No,_ Dave thought. _You haven't let me down yet. So please – when you do, because you will, since you're human, make it something small._

TEAOMAL

"Seriously, that was awesome," Dave said for the fifth time to Abrams as they sat at their table near the dance floor and watched the guests shuffle back and forth holding hands while the Glee kids danced circles around them.

"It really was, wasn't it?" Abrams said smugly, also for the fifth time. "We were so badass. Sam's already posted it to YouTube. Quinn has to keep dragging him back onto the dance floor so that he doesn't obsessively check for hits on it every five minutes."

Sure enough, Quinn was pulling on Evans' hand to keep him on the dance floor, rolling her eyes in exasperation but still laughing. He turned and laughed as well, putting an arm around her waist and dipping her playfully before bringing her back up for a kiss.

"I'm still not sure about the song choice," Abrams said thoughtfully. "We had a restrained and mature conversation – that'd be just about shrieking our heads off at each other, for your information – about whether or not it was appropriate to start Finn and Kurt's parents' marriage with a song about getting married because you want to do something dumb, your girlfriend is pretty, and you're more than a little drunk."

Dave laughed. "I gotta admit I wasn't really listening to the lyrics. It just looked really cool."

"And there were a lot of good solos," Abrams said.

Out on the dance floor, Kurt and Puckerman were just barely keeping it together as they danced, laughing madly as they performed moves that seemed to involve a lot of clasping hands, leaning back, crouching to the ground, springing back up, and ducking under each other's arms. At one particularly elaborate move that sent them staggering away from one another, Kurt burst into a fit of helpless giggles and fell to his knees on the floor. Puckerman wasn't far behind him.

"So how'd the solos get decided?" Dave asked, unable to keep the grin off his face as he watched Kurt get himself back under control and stand again, this time to be pulled into a dance by Rachel.

"Whoever in Glee was dating somebody else in Glee," Abrams said. "So that's Finn and Rachel, Quinn and Sam, Mike and Tina, and Santana and Brittany. We had another mature and restrained conversation about that, since a number of us thought that Kurt ought to have one too – it's his dad's wedding, after all. But he's actually the one who turned it down. Said it would mess with the symmetry of the number." He smiled and shook his head. "It wasn't to keep any homophobes at the wedding from raising a fuss, dude. Burt and Carole saw to that."

"Yeah?" Dave asked. "How so?"

"Kurt brought in the invitations that his dad and Carole sent out," Abrams said. "Aside from the date and place and all that, they billed us as the McKinley High School Gay-Straight Alliance instead of the Glee Club. Which, in polite wedding invitation speak, basically translates to 'gay kids will be there, and if you're going to so much as think bad things at them, RSVP with your regret.'"

"They have to be the best parents on earth," Dave said.

"For sure," Abrams agreed.

Dave leaned back in his chair, happy just to watch Kurt and Rachel tear up their corner of the dance floor with manic glee, Kurt occasionally pulling Rachel in close to lift her by the waist and set her back down for another round of holding hands and doing fancy footwork that had them twirling around each other. "So you 'n Puckerman are cool with Kurt now?"

"Yeah, we're cool," Abrams said. "That's the nice thing about Kurt. He gets mad, but once things get settled he's pretty much done with it. No grudge holding. When we apologized to him, he actually told us that _he_ was sorry for not having said anything sooner – he hadn't really wanted to call us out in front of everyone like that, but it was sort of the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak."

"He's a good guy," Dave said.

"No need to tell me that," Abrams said emphatically.

Rachel let go of Kurt and shoved him into Finn's arms, beaming when they just laughed and started dancing in a much less complicated manner than she and Kurt had been doing a few seconds ago. She nodded in satisfaction and took off toward Dave, stopping by his side and taking a moment to brace herself against the table. "You need to come dance with me," she told him, pink cheeked and slightly out of breath.

"I'm good with sitting here," he said. "Really."

"It's not up for negotiation," she said, grabbing his arm and tugging rather ineffectually. "Come on, just one dance and then I'll let you go back to being boring and sitting on the side."

"Why?" he asked, getting up in spite of himself.

"Because she does hold grudges, dude," Abrams said. "And she's passive aggressive."

"Thank you, Artie," she said, poisonously sweet. "I'll remember that."

"Sounds like it's in my best interest, then," Dave said in resignation, and Rachel made a funny high pitched squeal of delight and pulled him out onto the dance floor after her.

They hadn't even taken a half dozen steps onto the dance floor when Finn and Kurt danced over to their side, Finn looking delighted and intent and Kurt looking amused and long-suffering. "Hey there, pretty lady," Finn said, taking Rachel's free hand. "Wanna dance?"

"Yes!" she said immediately, then frowned and turned back to Dave. "I'll be coming back to collect my dance," she told him. "I'm sure Kurt can keep you occupied until then."

And then they were flying off in another direction, and Kurt and Dave were left standing together near the side of the dance floor. "How about it?" Kurt asked, offering him that same look he'd worn when Finn had danced them over. "Want to dance?"

 _Yes. God yes. I really want to dance with you. I want to clear the room and turn on a disgustingly mushy song and fucking slow dance with you like a middle schooler at his first school dance._ But that look Kurt had – amused, and patiently coping with trying circumstances – didn't speak of even a hint of returned affections.

"No," Dave said carefully.

Kurt's expression shifted immediately into disappointment. "Why not?" he asked. "I'd like to dance with you."

"I just don't think it's something I want to do," Dave said. "Dancing's not really something I think of as a thing that people do as just friends."

"Oh," Kurt said. "But it can be. Look at Mike and Brittany," he said, gesturing across the dance floor at their friends, who were dancing together and laughing. "It's just a dance between friends. It doesn't have to mean anything."

 _I'm actually going to have to say it, aren't I? Goddamn it. Not where I wanted to do it. Not when I wanted to do it. And it's really, really not how I wanted to do it._

"Doesn't it?" Dave asked, frustrated. "Maybe it doesn't with them, but god, Kurt, with us? With me? You can't say it's nothing when –" He took a deep breath and somehow found the courage to say it. "When you know how I feel about you."

Kurt stepped back, looking incredibly apologetic. "I do know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." He made a slight move toward Dave as if to take his arm, but held back and pointed to the side of the hall instead. "Let's get off the dance floor, okay?"

Dave nodded and followed him to the last row of chairs on the right hand side. They sat beside one another, shoulders brushing, just watching the dancers for a minute in silence. Finally Kurt said, not looking away from the dance floor, "I honestly didn't think you'd say anything about it for a lot longer."

"I wouldn't have," Dave said. "But thinking about dancing with you like that, and you saying it didn't have to mean anything – it's a little too much to take. I'm fine with what we have, honestly, and I won't ever push for more, but it's hard to remember that when you're standing on the dance floor asking me to dance with you."

"I should have realized that," Kurt said. "It was insensitive of me."

"I appreciate it," Dave said. "And don't get me wrong, I'd really like to dance with you. But not like that."

Kurt glanced at him briefly and then back away toward the dance floor. He drummed his fingers against his knee – a nervous gesture Dave had never seen before. "Are you really alright with how things stand between us?"

"As good as I can be," Dave said. "You treat me like a friend, and I never thought I'd even have that. It's nice – seriously. I just can't help liking you more than that." _Loving you more,_ his mind supplied.

"I know." Kurt's drumming picked up in intensity, and he cut it off suddenly, leaning back in his chair. "Look. I don't – I don't _not_ like you that way. I just don't know if I do feel that way or not. I do know that we're friends, and we're becoming good friends, and that matters to me. If I could make it all crystal clear in my mind, and just decide right now to have romantic feelings for you, I would."

"I hear a but," Dave said.

"But that's not how it works," Kurt said. "You've become this person I hardly recognize as the guy I went to school with at the start of last month, and it's amazing and wonderful. But it's still new, and I want to make sure we don't fall into something we might regret later because we didn't wait."

"I'm pretty sure that me having a starring role in some of your worst memories of high school doesn't help," Dave said, and Kurt winced.

"No, it doesn't," he admitted. "I wasn't ever going to say anything about it, but I suppose that if we're actually going to have this conversation then it needs to come out." Kurt sighed and looked down at his hands where they rested on his knees. "When I'm sitting and talking with you, or when we're watching movies or doing homework together, it's so easy to forget that a month and a half ago you threatened me with 'the Fury.'" He glanced at Dave again, this time with a small, teasing smile at the ridiculous nickname. "But when I step back to take in the wider view, I get conflicted. We don't have a nice history, Dave."

"I know," Dave said, subdued.

"And yet," Kurt continued, "Seeing you this past month that you've been out, and getting to know you, makes me think that this is the Dave Karofsky that has always been there just under the surface, waiting for the day that the mask would drop. And I can't begin to tell you how much better I like this version of you." He smiled, and Dave smiled back reflexively. "We've spent more time together in the last four weeks than we had in the year that came before it," he said, "And sometimes it makes me wonder if I'm just being overly cautious. Mostly, however, I don't think so. I'm not saying never. I'm just saying that I –"

"Need time," Dave finished. He hesitated, then added, knowing Kurt would understand, "Because some wounds take longer to heal."

Kurt's eyes widened, and he dragged his chair around to be able to face Dave directly. "You were awake," he said. Dave just looked at him, and Kurt's face fell. "Oh, no," he breathed. "No. You were supposed to be asleep. You weren't ever supposed to hear that – I never in a million years wanted you to hear what I told Finn."

"You told Finn what I needed to hear," Dave said.

"You needed to hear me tell Finn that I still get scared around you occasionally?" Kurt asked incredulously.

"I needed to hear you say that I had to be more comfortable with myself, and less insecure about what other people might think," Dave said. "And yeah, it hurt to hear about how I still scare you sometimes, but I'd thought that once you forgave me it was like nothing had ever happened, so I kinda needed the reality check. But most of all I needed to hear the other things you said."

"What else did I say?" Kurt asked. His long, slender fingers stretched out in the space between their knees, as if Kurt wanted to but couldn't quite bring himself to bridge the gap.

"You said that you really did forgive me," Dave said, "And that you like me, and that you're here for me." _And you said 'maybe,'_ he wanted to add, but held that one in, not wanting to let it out only to discover that he'd misheard him or misunderstood the context. He doubted it, but still. 'Maybe' was his good luck charm these days, his mantra, his one word inspirational quote.

"And I meant all of that," Kurt said, and his hand finally crossed the divide to settle on top of Dave's hand. He wrapped his fingers around it, fingertips curling tightly into Dave's palm. Dave closed his hand on Kurt's fingers and squeezed back. "I still do mean it."

"And that's why I'm fine with whatever you're willing to give me," Dave said. "Because you mean it."

Kurt smiled. "So – do you want to dance with me?"

"Depends. Does it mean anything?" Dave asked.

"It means that you're my friend," Kurt said, "And that I'm yours, and that we both know that even if it doesn't happen overnight, there's still potential for something bigger down the road. Does that mean enough?"

"Yeah," Dave said. "It means enough." He stood and pulled Kurt to his feet with their joined hands, then let go when a thought struck him. "I – um, I don't actually know how to dance," he confessed.

"You were there for the impromptu lesson on the waltz, weren't you?" Kurt said. "It doesn't matter if it's a box step or not; the basics remain the same. One person leads, the other follows, and don't look at your feet." He held out his hand in invitation. "We don't even have to go back out to the dance floor. We can dance right here by the chairs." When Dave continued to hesitate, he said, "If you don't have any hang ups about not being the lead, I can do the steering."

"It's kinda a metaphor for what we're doing, isn't it?" Dave said, taking his hand. "You lead, I follow." He laughed softly. "Borchard would keel over dead to hear me say that."

"Then let's just dance and avoid killing our teachers," Kurt said, "Appropriate metaphors or not."

They maneuvered away from the chairs and onto an open patch of floor, and a new song came on, a light, jazzy number that made Kurt stop and listen intently for a few seconds before he relaxed and stepped up to Dave, adjusting hands and elbows and feet before beginning to lead them in a very simple side to side dance. They slowly turned in place as they moved, and on the second rotation, Dave spied Rachel bouncing on the balls of her feet with an enormous smile and exchanging low-fives with a smug looking Finn.

"Don't look now," he said, "But your brand new brother and his girlfriend just congratulated each other when they saw us dancing."

"I'm not surprised they're colluding with each other," Kurt said dryly. "What does surprise me is that Finn's still trying to play matchmaker when I told him not to."

Dave laughed. "To be fair, you only told him not to try to talk you into it. You never said anything about not setting you up."

"Or not to recruit outside assistance," Kurt added. "Apparently I need to learn to close loopholes."

"Mm-hmm," Dave agreed. "Hey – what's this song? You seemed to recognize it."

"It's a Gershwin song," Kurt said, "From the late thirties. I was surprised because I'd never heard an instrumental version of it before."

"I like it," Dave said. "What's it called?"

Kurt shook his head and smiled. "I'm going to hold on to that answer for a while longer," he said.

"But you will tell me eventually?" Dave asked. He suspected the answer had something to do with why Rachel was now looking misty eyed and holding her hand to her heart.

"Yes," Kurt said. "I promise."

And as always, Dave couldn't help but believe him.

* * *

As always, I love feedback, and am forever curious to hear what you think.

Anyone who figures out which Gershwin song of the 30's I'm talking about is getting fresh baked internet cookies for life.


	13. I'll be Home for Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ella Greggs has a lifetime supply of peanut butter e-cookies for her superlative deductive skills, and Aetheriata will have chocolate chip cookies for her excellent use of process of elimination.

Ella Greggs has a lifetime supply of peanut butter e-cookies for her superlative deductive skills, and Aetheriata will have chocolate chip cookies for her excellent use of process of elimination.

* * *

 _Christmas with the Hummels_ , Dave thought as he ducked to avoid getting hit by a flying candy cane, _is pure chaos._ Finn was even more exuberant than usual, and Kurt had shed the mild reserve he often wore, trading it for high-spirited happiness. Burt and Carole, who were already relatively laid-back parents, were indulgent and entertained by their sons' rowdy antics.

"Stand still!" Finn yelled, flinging another candy cane at Kurt and again missing him completely.

Kurt fired back with his own candy cane and hit Finn square on the chest. "No," he said. "It's not my fault that I'm faster than you."

"Fu-frigging ninja," Finn said. He crouched behind the kitchen island and took careful aim. "Stand still!" he cried again when it whiffed past Kurt's hip.

"Your aim is terrible," Kurt said, waiting for Finn to emerge from his hiding place.

"You're too fast," Finn said. He stuck his head around the side to get a look and was immediately beaned by another candy cane.

"Coming through!" Carole said, stepping quickly through their line of fire with another tray full of gingerbread men. "The first batch has cooled off enough to decorate, boys, if you're willing to call the battle off for now."

Finn popped up from behind the island. "Yes!" He bounded over to the counter where the first tray of cookies was, Kurt not far behind him. Dave followed at a slower pace.

They were all wonderful – this was all wonderful – but the stark difference of Christmas with the Hummels and Christmas with his parents was a sharp reminder that this year he wouldn't be spending it with his family. There wouldn't be a Christmas Eve service, or his mom's home cooked dinner, or another night in the living room watching 'It's a Wonderful Life.' Instead, there was laughter and candy cane fights and a bushy Scotch Pine decorated with homemade ornaments from both Finn and Kurt's childhood, and the difference had him off balance enough that he couldn't quite enjoy the festivities in the same way that his friends were.

Finn grabbed the white frosting, and Kurt took the red, both of them starting on the gingerbread people's outfits first. After a moment of contemplation, Dave chose the green and began spreading it on the head and hands of his own gingerbread man.

"I don't see why we have to watch 'White Christmas,'" Finn said as he gave his two gingerbread men what looked like bathrobes. "It's old. And kinda boring."

"'White Christmas' is a timeless classic," Kurt said, abandoning the red in favor of a small tube of white icing. "'Suburban Zombie Christmas' isn't anywhere near as good. And don't try to make the case that watching it every Christmas Eve is a prized family tradition. It came out two years ago."

"You know what you are?" Finn asked. He added a white beard to one of his gingerbread men and stole the tub of green frosting from Dave. "You're a buzzkill."

"And you're a pain," Kurt said with a laugh, squeezing a cheery yellow onto the head of his.

Dave grabbed the tub of purple icing and started in on his gingerbread man's shirt. "Don't test him, man. He'll start throwing candy canes at you again."

"Oh, hey," Finn said, looking up from where he was carefully spreading green onto the head of the non-bearded gingerbread man. "That reminds me. Do we have any of those little rainbow ones left?"

"Despite the GSA's best efforts to eat every last one, I managed to save a handful," Kurt said. "How many do you need?"

"Two," Finn said, and Kurt dug in his pants pocket to retrieve a couple.

"Backup ammunition," he explained as he handed them over.

"I'd get on your case about having more ammo than what we divided up, but I'm just gonna take them and say thanks," Finn said. He took them out of their wrappers and stuck them on his gingerbread men's hands with the long end pointing out, cementing them in place with a dollop of frosting. The two gingerbread men looked like duelers facing off with one another.

Burt moseyed over to take a peek at their projects. "What did you boys make?"

"Brittany," Kurt said. "I'm doing Puck next. I'm hoping for a full set of Gleeks."

Dave held his up. "Frankenstein's monster."

Finn smiled proudly. "I made Jedi," he said. "See? The green one's Yoda, and the one with the white beard is Obi-Wan."

"Okay, I'm following you so far," Burt said, "But why are they fighting each other? Aren't they on the same side?"

"I dunno." Finn shrugged. "Maybe they both wanna take Luke to the Winter Formal?"

Kurt laughed. "Not Leia?"

"Of course not," Finn said. "They have to get Luke out of the way so that Han will get over his jealousy issues and make a move on the princess." He looked down at his gingerbread Obi-Wan and added, "But it could be that Obi-Wan has the hots for Luke, and that all that one-on-one mentoring was just a way to get closer."

"I have a family full of crazy people," Burt said. He sounded extremely pleased about it.

"I hope you didn't just realize this," Kurt said, reaching for another gingerbread man.

"I always suspected," Burt said. "But I knew for certain when I opened the fridge to find that the eggnog this year was fat free." He looked down at the cup in his hand and made a look of distaste.

"There's always cider," Kurt said.

"Eggnog is a tradition," Burt said, "And this is not eggnog."

Carole swept over and gave Burt a hug from behind. "It's the cider or the fat free eggnog, honey," she said. "I'd rather have you with me when we're old and gray than let you near a carton of the real stuff."

Burt smiled and turned to give her a kiss, and Finn and Kurt pretended to gag.

"Eww, parental kissing."

"I'm scarred for life!"

"Oh, hush," Carole said, laughing, and she pulled away, reaching between Finn and Kurt's arms to grab an undecorated gingerbread man. "Where's your respect for your elders?"

"Maybe if we're lucky, Santa will give them some for Christmas," Burt said.

"Or they'll be conscripted into working for him as extremely tall elves," Carole suggested, "And we'll have our nice big new house all to ourselves."

"There's a thought," Burt said. "We'll keep Dave. Santa can have you both."

"It's a tragedy," Kurt sighed. "Not even married three weeks, and you're already trying to do away with your respective stepchildren. The next thing you know, we'll be abandoned in a forest and will have to follow a trail of breadcrumbs home."

"And the witch will eat you and we'll finally have peace and quiet," Burt agreed.

Dave smiled at their banter and halfheartedly started to turn a new gingerbread man into a vampire. His family had always been loving, and kind, and nice, but never this fun. Never this playful. That was what friends had always been for. He'd assumed, apparently wrongly, that all parents were like that – firm and staid and kind.

At some unspoken signal, Kurt and Finn turned and began tossing candy canes at their parents, and Burt and Carole laughed and ran out of the kitchen, Carole pelting them with broken off bits of her gingerbread man as they retreated.

"Do you guys always go this nuts at Christmas?" Dave asked as he squirted white icing into two little triangular fangs.

"Dad and I do," Kurt said.

"Same with me and Mom," Finn added. "Guess we just go even crazier now that there's four of us."

"It makes things fun," Kurt said. "Adds a bit of much needed insanity to all of the festivities."

"It's not Christmas if you aren't having fun," Finn said.

"That's cool," Dave said. He sighed and set down the tube of icing. "Hey – I'm gonna go take a breather in the living room. Admire the tree, you know."

"Sure," Kurt said. "Do you want company?"

Dave shrugged. "If you want." He left the kitchen as quickly as he could without making it look like he was fleeing and went to the living room to sit on the couch.

This wasn't his Christmas. It wasn't like any Christmas he'd ever had before. Dinner had been wonderful, but it had been the wrong dinner. The Christmas music had been catchy, but the wrong voices had been singing along to it. The tree was beautiful, but he didn't recognize the ornaments. The evening was incredibly fun, but it was nothing like the Christmas service he always attended. The cider was tasty, but it had the wrong spices.

This wasn't his Christmas.

Someone came into the living room and stopped behind the couch, hesitating a moment before dropping a hand to his shoulder and squeezing it comfortingly. Dave brought his own hand up to cover it, recognizing the long fingers beneath his own. _Kurt. Of course it would be Kurt._

"It's beautiful out," Kurt said. "I'll be over by the window admiring the scenery if you want to talk." Dave nodded, and Kurt moved off, his hand slipping out from under Dave's.

He missed them terribly. What they'd done – it still hurt, and it would probably always hurt. But they were his parents, and he loved them, and it was Christmas, and he missed them so, so much. He felt heavy with the weight of how much he missed them, and the holiday season had grown progressively duller and less bright as the days wore on and his parents failed to get in touch.

Didn't they miss him, too? Wasn't he still their son, no matter what he did or who he was? Were they celebrating Christmas without him this year, visiting family and singing Christmas hymns with the other members of the church? He'd been gone less than two months; surely they hadn't simply moved on in such a short space of time.

He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to go and see them. _Maybe they do miss me. Maybe they're miserable and wish they'd never thrown me out and just don't care that I'm gay anymore and they're too proud to come to me first._ He shook his head. _Maybe they're miserable and miss me and care a whole hell of a lot that I'm gay and won't let me come home until I've gone to that fucking reprogramming program that Dad's brother works at._ Either way, he needed, desperately needed, to go and see for himself.

He had a sinking sensation in his stomach that told him this would be a terrible idea, but he couldn't bring himself to simply give in to the warm, cozy cheer of the Hummel house without at least trying. There was no reason he had to do it alone, though, and he knew that Kurt would agree to help him in a heartbeat.

He got off the couch and stepped over to the living room window to join Kurt in looking out at the dark, snowy street outside the house. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," Kurt replied in an equally quiet voice. "You've been pretty down the past few days. What's on your mind?"

"I miss them," Dave said. "I've never had a Christmas without them."

Beyond the window, snow sailed past in light flurries. Across the street, the neighbors' yard was gaudily decorated with plastic light-up statues of Frosty the Snowman and Santa's reindeer, and the bright, colorful lights glowed in the black of the winter evening.

"What do you want to do?" Kurt asked. He turned from the window to look up at Dave, nothing but unwavering support in his eyes.

"I want to go there," Dave said. "To see them. I don't – I don't know if I'll talk to them or knock on their door or anything –" he hated how 'their door' rolled off his tongue so easily "– but I want to see how they're doing. You know?"

Kurt nodded. "Yes. I do. Do you –"

"Will you come with me?" Dave asked. "I don't think I can if I do it by myself. Please?"

"Of course," Kurt said. "When?"

"Now. Before I lose my nerve," Dave said, and Kurt nodded again.

"Your truck?"

"Yes," Dave said. "Just in case." _Just in case they recognize it before I have a chance to approach the house and maybe they'll come out to see me and ask me, ask us both, inside to sit and have something hot to drink and tell me that they love me. Just in case they recognize it and turn away because they still hate the sin more than they love the sinner and if they do that before I get out to knock on the door then maybe I'll spare myself at least some of the heartache._

"Yes," Kurt said, and from the sound of his voice Dave thought he'd probably picked up on every unspoken thought behind those three words. "Let's get going, then."

Out in the entry way they pulled on their warm boots and heavy coats, wrapping scarves around their necks and tugging ski hats onto their heads. As Dave was pulling on his gloves, Burt came around the corner, cup of fat-free eggnog still in his hand.

"You kids going somewhere?" he asked.

"We'll be back soon," Kurt said.

Burt looked at his son, and then at Dave, and for a split second his face fell into that same expression he'd worn when Dave had turned up on their doorstep a month and a half ago to tell them he'd been kicked out. But all he did was take a sip of his eggnog and ask Kurt, "You have your phone with you?"

"Yes," Kurt told him. "I'll call if anything comes up, I promise."

"Good," Burt said. "Drive safe," he told Dave. "The roads are slippery."

"We'll be careful," Dave said, and he opened the front door and headed outside with Kurt, bracing himself against the biting cold. He walked to the driver's side of the truck as quickly as possible, leaning across the center console to unlock Kurt's door from the inside. Kurt slipped inside, shutting the door behind him immediately.

"Every year I forget that there's a downside to a white Christmas," he said.

Dave turned the key in the ignition and switched the heat on, backing out of the driveway and onto the road. "Could be worse. Could be this cold with no snow. Then we'd be suffering without the payoff."

"How right you are," Kurt said. He fell silent for a moment, and out of the corner of his eye Dave could see that he was looking at him. "Dave. No matter what happens."

He smiled slightly, more a twitch of his lips than anything. "I know." _I know that no matter what happens, you'll still be there, and I'll still be amazed that you are._

Kurt held his hands out to warm them in the heat coming from the vents. "Don't you forget it."

"Like you'd let me," Dave said. "You should have brought gloves."

"I'll manage." Kurt rubbed his hands together briskly and stuck them in his coat pockets.

"If you say so," Dave said. He came to a careful stop at an intersection and turned on the radio to his favorite alt-rock station, keeping the music low but not so low that it wouldn't help to distract him from his worries. "Just say the word and you can have my gloves, though."

"But then your hands would be cold," Kurt pointed out. "Either way, one of us is going to go home with blue fingers." He stopped short. "One of us will get blue fingers, I mean."

"I know how it's probably going to go," Dave said. "I just have to try."

"I understand."

The conversation petered out, but it felt like they were still saying everything while driving there in silence. On Dave's side of the car, he was fairly shouting, "What am I doing? This is going to end so badly!" and Kurt's silence seemed to be replying, "It's okay. You're not alone." It was so strange – it was almost like what he and Azimio had, but their ability to understand the meaning behind each other's expressions and body language hadn't developed between them for years. This was just so easy it felt almost too good to be true.

Dave pulled the truck over to park it across the street from his parents' house. The lights were on, he noticed, and those curtains on the kitchen window had been pulled back again. He had a clear view, small as it was, through the kitchen window into the living room. No Christmas tree. No Christmas lights.

"Is this it?" Kurt asked.

Dave nodded and opened the door to hop down from the cab. "Someone's home," he said, "But I don't see Dad's car." He shut the door to keep the warmth in for Kurt, and as he was trying to work up the nerve to cross the street, his dad's car pulled into their driveway as if on cue.

Out came his dad, broad shouldered and stocky, and he went around to the trunk to remove what looked like a suitcase from the inside. Then the passenger side door opened, and his uncle, tall and thin and bundled up in a puffy down jacket, got out, and Dave bit the inside of his cheek hard. _God, not him. Not the fucking pastor_. He turned to look around at the neighborhood, and from across the top of the car he spotted Dave and said something in a low voice to Dave's dad.

His dad turned to look as well, and he – he seemed to brighten. He didn't quite smile, and he didn't make any move toward Dave's car, but he looked…hopeful. Yes, hopeful was the right word.

 _Hopeful why? That I've come back home? That I forgive them for kicking me out? That I'm here to deliver that apology and tell them it was one big misunderstanding?_

There was really only one way to find out. But before he went over, he was going to make damn sure he had the moral support he needed, and he knocked on the window of the door to get Kurt's attention, beckoning him to come out. He looked back at his Dad. Yep. Still hopeful. Then Kurt came around the front of the truck and that look of hope slid off his face to be replaced by a tight, angry scowl, his ire directed entirely at the ( _gorgeous, witty, talented, wonderful_ ) boy who was now standing at his side. _Third option, then, and showing up with Kurt pretty much kills that hope of his._ His uncle came to stand by his dad's side, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking out at Dave and Kurt as well. His expression was harder to read from across the street, but Dave knew what it would look like – that devastating combination of pity and disgust he always wore when talking about "the homosexuals."

He looked over at Kurt and tried to see him through a stranger's eyes. Fine-featured, a nearly delicate look to his face that people tended to assume automatically meant "gay." Slightly taller than average, and spare, in shape but not through a sport they'd consider manly. Stylish, hat and scarf perfectly matched to the trim on his fancy coat.

He just couldn't see it. Whatever it was that they saw that put that ugly look on their faces, he couldn't see it anywhere. All he saw was Kurt, and Kurt was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and anyone who thought otherwise could take their opinions and stick them someplace uncomfortable. Even if they were people he loved. Even if they were his family.

"This was a mistake," he said, low and infuriated. "Let's go home." _This can't be my home, not while my dad stands there looking at you like that. He doesn't get to look at you like that. No one gets to._

"Alright," Kurt said softly, and he reached out to take the keys from Dave's hand. "I'll drive us back. You're shaking."

"I am?" He looked down at his hands. "Huh." He was trembling, from anger and nerves and a disappointment so deep it left him feeling raw.

"Get in," Kurt told him, and he stood by the driver's side door and watched as Dave went around to get into the passenger seat before getting back into the car himself. As he started up the engine and pulled away from the curb, Dave looked through the window to see his dad and uncle, still standing there watching as they drove away.

His shaking began to subside, but not by much, and after a couple of blocks Kurt pulled back over and put the car in park. "This has to be one of the dumbest questions I've ever asked," he started, "But are you alright?"

Dave was quiet for what felt like ages as he tried to pull his emotions back under control, and once he'd stopped trembling he answered. "No," he said, "But I think I will be."

"Is there anything I can do?" Kurt asked.

"There are a couple things," Dave said, and Kurt nodded. "I could really use a hug, for one." He smiled at Kurt, relieved to find that in spite of everything that had just taken place it still came easily. "You give great hugs."

Kurt unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over the console to pull Dave into an awkwardly positioned hug that somehow didn't lose any of the strength or warmth of the last two hugs he'd given him. Dave quickly unlatched his belt and wrapped his arms around Kurt as well. _And this is the third one. Even with the console digging into my ribs it's still fantastic._ He pulled away slowly, not wanting to lose contact but too uncomfortable to continue leaning over.

Kurt smiled and buckled his seatbelt again. "What's the other thing?"

"Wear my gloves," Dave said. "Please. Your hands look like they're frozen through." He tugged them off and held them out to Kurt.

"This is crucial to your emotional wellbeing?" Kurt asked, taking the gloves and pulling them on.

"It really is," Dave said. "You're making me colder just looking at you."

"They're on," Kurt said, holding up a hand as proof. "Now. What would you like to do? Go home? Head to that twenty-four hour diner near the tracks for coffee and pie? Go on the run and embark on a life of crime à la Bonnie and Clyde?"

Dave relaxed back into his seat, feeling the anger slowly start to fade into the background. "Coffee this late would keep me up until three, and no matter how good we might look with fedoras and guns, the law would catch up eventually."

"Home, then?"

"Home," Dave said, and this time there wasn't disappointment or excitement or happiness or relief filling him when he said it. It just felt _right_ this time, like it never had any of the past times he'd called it that. "We have to get back before they start that movie without us."

"Home it is," Kurt said, and put the truck back into drive to take them back to a brightly lit house filled with warmth and laughter and the smell of warm cookies, where Carole would press cups of hot cider into their hands and Finn would go on about that zombie movie and Burt would complain about not having real eggnog.

 _Home._ Burt had been right that day, but now? It was exactly the kind of home that he wanted.

* * *

Consider this my very belated Christmas present to you all. Just over halfway there, folks!

Feedback is always appreciated!


	14. The Date that Wasn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GSA was going better than Dave had anticipated. They were only three weeks into the new year, and their group of sixteen had grown to twenty-four. They'd had to move their weekly lunch meetings from Mr. Schuester's Spanish classroom out to the field to have enough space for the new members. Cory had joined first, bringing along his two best friends, Riley Peters and Stacie Washington, from the freshmen boy's tennis team and the Drama Club, respectively. Then came Sophie and her friend Megan Willis, who worked at Azimio's mother's floral shop on the weekends. Next was Kim, who claimed that it was the closest thing the school had to a Young Democrats Club, and Aaron Levitt's younger brother Zach, who was the secretary of the Debate Team and had apparently come out over Winter Break. Finally, there was Sean Douglas, who played the French horn in the orchestra and was a mini Kurt Hummel in the making.

GSA was going better than Dave had anticipated. They were only three weeks into the new year, and their group of sixteen had grown to twenty-four. They'd had to move their weekly lunch meetings from Mr. Schuester's Spanish classroom out to the field to have enough space for the new members. Cory had joined first, bringing along his two best friends, Riley Peters and Stacie Washington, from the freshmen boy's tennis team and the Drama Club, respectively. Then came Sophie and her friend Megan Willis, who worked at Azimio's mother's floral shop on the weekends. Next was Kim, who claimed that it was the closest thing the school had to a Young Democrats Club, and Aaron Levitt's younger brother Zach, who was the secretary of the Debate Team and had apparently come out over Winter Break. Finally, there was Sean Douglas, who played the French horn in the orchestra and was a mini Kurt Hummel in the making.

Sometimes Dave was tempted to pinch himself. Hard. This – this life, the one where his friends had seemingly multiplied overnight and most people still saw him as the same varsity football player with the bad spelling and the head for numbers that he'd always been, where Kurt was his friend and he worked at an auto repair shop and the world hadn't ended the moment he'd come out – was so much better than anything he could have imagined. And it was real.

And every lunch break on Thursday, they met up on the field by the bleachers – even in January, cold as it was – and they sat and laughed and told each other what was going on in their lives. Sometimes Evans or Puckerman – Sam and Puck, as they were starting to insist Dave call them – would bring their guitars and jam. Half the time Mr. Schuester didn't even bother showing up, which was more than fine with them. Occasionally Rachel would attempt to bring their group to some semblance of order, but for the most part she cheerfully let club goals and business fall by the wayside.

Today was not one of those days.

"Okay," she said loudly, raising her voice above the rest of theirs. "Who's in favor of doing a Diversity Week?"

"Nope," Tina said.

"Hell no," Mercedes added.

"Good Lord, girl. Are you crazy?" Stacie asked.

"I'm with them," Rashad said, and Chang – _Mike_ —and Azimio nodded.

"That's not a good idea," Sophie piped up.

"I'm going to go with no," Santana said.

"Really, Rachel," Kurt said. "At this school?"

"I don't see why not," she said. "Fine. Tell me. Why would it be so bad?"

"Think about it," Kurt said. "For the allotted Gay Day, at least one jock will come to school in a dress and makeup. I'd bet that another dozen would consider it quite open minded and tolerant for them to go around affecting a lisp and making limp-wristed gestures at everything."

"Geishas and ninjas on Asian Day," Tina said.

"Not to mention offensive accents and speaking fake Chinese," Mike said.

"And I already get asked where I'm _really_ from every few months or so," Sophie said. "I don't want it happening every ten minutes."

"I can't be held responsible for what I might do if some fool shows up on your politically correct 'African-American' Day in blackface," Azimio said.

"Or come dressed as pimps," Rashad said.

"Or hos," Mercedes and Stacie said together.

"Sombreros, ponchos, and too many damn Speedy Gonzales jokes," Santana said.

Rachel sighed. "I see your point. Okay, no Diversity Week. Any other ideas?"

"Could we all go to Columbus Pride together?" Zach asked.

"We could, and we should," Rachel said. "But it doesn't happen until after school gets out for the summer. We need something we can do during the school year to help further our goal of acceptance of diversity."

They all fell uncharacteristically quiet, attempting to think of something that they might be able to do. Even Puck and Artie left off bickering about whether The Head Shop or The Mamas and the Papas did a better cover of 'Yesterday.'

After a minute, Cory sat up from where he'd been leaning against Sean's shoulder and exclaimed, "I've got it!" He turned to Stacie excitedly. "What's the name of that play you were telling me about? That one set in Wyoming about the hate crime?"

"'The Laramie Project,'" she said. "But Figgins would never go for it. Parents would raise a stink, and he'd bow to outside pressure and shut the production down."

"Not if we got the movie version," Rachel said. "We could organize it as an assembly."

"And project it up on a big screen," Tina said, getting into it. "That would be great."

"That still leaves the problem of the parents, though," Kurt pointed out. "How would you get around that?"

Rachel thought for a moment. "It could be an optional assembly," she said. "That would bring in the kids who just want to get out of class. And if we got some of the teachers on board, they could assign extra credit for going and doing a write up about the film."

"Most of the English department would like the idea," Quinn said.

"Bell would probably go for it," Dave said, "At least for the juniors. We're in Twentieth Century American History right now. Maybe a couple of the other American History teachers would want to do it, too."

"Ms. Torres would probably assign it to her sociology and psychology students," Sean said.

"It's decided, then?" Rachel asked.

Finn raised a hand. "I'm going to say yes, but could someone fill me in on what 'The Laramie Project' is about?"

"Yeah," Rashad said. "Some of us poor unenlightened souls want to know why this movie's so important."

"Matthew Shepard," Dave said, and a very small part of him hated that he knew this – that he'd known this for years – and his friends didn't. But it wasn't their fault; they weren't the ones who'd spent those same years terribly afraid that the same fate might befall him.

Understanding filled Puck's eyes. "That's the guy that hate crimes bill was named after."

"He was beaten within an inch of his life, tied to a fence, and left for dead," Kurt said. "He died from his injuries in the hospital." He looked around their group – their fantastic, tight-knit, supportive group – and met the eyes of every straight member. "There is a very good reason," he said, "Why it can be terrifying to come out of the closet."

"We should do it," Artie said abruptly. "We should bring the idea to Figgins and set a date."

"I agree," Finn said.

Rachel nodded vigorously. "All in favor?" she asked. Hands flew up around the group, and Rachel stood to count. "…Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four. It's unanimous. We're going to put on 'The Laramie Project.'"

"Operation: Induce Empathy is a go," Kim said brightly. "Rally the troops!"

"One of these days," Kurt said, "We're going to have words about inappropriate timing in regards to your humor."

"One of these days you're going to appreciate my unparalleled skill in regards to breaking tension," she said airily.

"Oh, baby, I appreciate you," Zach crooned. "No one will ever love you like I do."

She laughed and flopped down on her back in the grass, swinging her feet into his lap. "You dork. Don't ever let your future boyfriends hear you say that. Or Aaron, for that matter."

"Our love transcends mere relationships," he declared. "My beloved, my princess, my delicate dewdrop, O glittering gem of perfec – Ow!"

Santana jabbed him in the side again. "Has anyone ever told you you're a pain in the ass?"

"Recently," Zach said cheerfully, "But not in the last twenty-four hours, and not in the way that I'd like."

Megan shrieked in disgust and threw a handful of grass at him. "Gaah! No sex talk! My poor virgin ears!"

"No kidding," Rashad said. "We have to go to practice with your brother today, dude. I don't know about the rest of you, but I for one don't know if I can look at him on the field and keep a straight face after hearing you declare your undying love for his girlfriend and talk about exactly what kind of pain in the ass you wanna be."

"No fun," Zach sighed. "No fun at all."

"Idiot freshmen don't get to have fun," Santana said. "It's a rule."

"Idiot freshmen don't get to have fun, and we need to hear about new relationships as soon as they happen," Mercedes concurred. She looked pointedly at Cory and Sean, who were still leaning against each other, their hands clasped between them. "For instance, when the hell did _that_ happen? And why weren't we told?"

"Last Friday," Cory said, blushing. "We're not really being public about it –"

"Not outside of GSA, anyway," Sean said, "But maybe in time for Prom."

"You should have told us," Tina scolded them. "You can't keep something like that from us. It's –"

"Against the rules?" Cory asked.

"Exactly," Tina said.

"Dumb rules," Cory said. "And anyway, why aren't you getting on Dave and Kurt's cases? Aren't they holding out on you?"

"We're just friends," Dave said, and thirteen people made sounds of disbelief.

"Like hell," Santana said. "You're not friends, you're just stubborn."

"It's inevitable," Artie said.

"Only a matter of time," Mike said.

"It's annoying," Azimio said.

"Cavity inducing," Rashad said.

"Hilarious," Tina said.

"Romantic," Rachel said.

"Taking too damn long," Santana finished. The newer members of the GSA stared in wide-eyed fascination at the rapid-fire banter.

Dave and Kurt traded a long, weary look. "We're just friends," they chorused.

"What you are," Mercedes said, "Is in some weird gray area between friends and dating. I mean, come on, boys. You drive to school together every day."

"We live together," Kurt said. "It saves on gas. And Finn rides with us, too."

"You eat lunch together half the time," she persisted.

"Because we're friends," Dave said. "Half the time we eat with our other friends."

"Every GSA meeting you sit together," she said.

Kurt bumped Dave's shoulder with his own in a companionable way. "I'll give you that," he said, "But we're still just friends."

"This much denial is unhealthy," Rachel said. "No matter what you say to the contrary, it seems obvious that you're headed for a beautiful and romantic relationship. Why dance around it?"

 _Because we have a crapload of bad history to overcome first._ Dave was about to open his mouth to tell their friends it was none of their business when Kurt said smoothly, "Because we enjoy driving you insane." He winked at Dave. _I love you. Thank you._

"Know what?" Santana said, standing up and marching over. Dave and Kurt craned their necks to look up at her from where they were sitting on the grass. "I believe you. I've changed my mind. You're just friends. So I think it's time you actually took Brit and me up on our invitation to go to Breadstix. We'll have a completely platonic good time."

"I'd buy that if I hadn't just heard the litany that came right before it," Kurt said.

Dave nodded in agreement. "And I don't think platonic is the right word to describe you and Brittany, pretty much ever."

"We'll all go, then!" Rachel said brightly. "Finn and I will come, and Tina and Mike, and Mercedes and Anthony."

"And Sam and me," Quinn said. She turned her most innocent looking smile on Kurt and Dave. "It'll be so much fun."

"More single people have to come, or we're out," Dave said.

"Count me in, then," Azimio said. "Puckerman?"

"Yeah, me 'n Artie are always up for dinner at the Stix," Puck said.

"For sure," Artie said, grinning. "Looks like we have ourselves a totally platonic group outing."

"Saturday at six," Santana said in a voice that brooked no arguments. "Be there."

Dave looked around her legs at Sophie. "What's that one quote from that show you like that you said last week?"

"'Oh God, Oh God, we're all gonna die,'" she said.

"That's the one."

Santana smirked. "Be there."

TEAOMAL

Forty minutes after leaving Hummel Tire and Lube, Dave found himself standing in front of his closet, freshly showered and hands still a bit chafed from scrubbing grease off with Fast Orange. _It's not a date_ , he reminded himself yet again. It wasn't a date, and he shouldn't be putting this much thought into what he was going to wear, because _it wasn't a date._ Except it was, because he knew that their friends were setting them up in some way. But it wasn't, because no matter how their friends decided to pull off their matchmaking stunt, he and Kurt were still just friends.

 _Damn it._ Kurt, he knew, would look incredible like always. If Kurt ever dressed down, Dave wasn't able to tell the difference between a dressy day at school and a casual one. In comparison, Dave always looked unconcerned and laid with his appearance. _Should I dress better this evening?_ No. No no no, because it wasn't a goddamn date, and he was supposed to look like he always looked or it would look like he thought it was a date. Which it wasn't.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groaned. Why couldn't Santana – or the rest of their friends, for that matter – just leave things alone?

He could do this. He stopped guys who outweighed him by forty or fifty pounds from getting past him on the field. He blocked runs and passes and hit the ground with enough force to leave him bruised and sore for days. If he could do that, he could pick a shirt and a pair of pants and call it good without going crazy second guessing every choice he made.

Somehow, the closet was more intimidating.

"Casual, totally platonic outing," Dave said to himself. Jeans, then, but not the old ones. Not his newest ones, either. Middle of the road, then – that pair he got last summer that miraculously still didn't have any holes in them. And sneakers – not his gym shoes, but the ones he wore to school.

That was good. Now for the shirt. Not the button up ones – too nice. The t-shirts were too casual. He sighed and briefly contemplated telling Kurt he had a stomachache and couldn't go. _Long sleeved?_ He scanned the row of hangers and grabbed the dark green shirt that Brittany had told him made him look hot. _Fuck._ Well, Kurt didn't know Brittany had told him that. He quickly pulled on the jeans and shirt he'd chosen, and after jamming his feet into his sneakers, ducked into the hall bathroom to make sure it didn't look too "date-like." _Still too nice looking._ He pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. It struck him that he was planning his outfit with all the obsessive overthinking of either a military tactician or a teenage girl. "What the hell," he said to his reflection. "At least I'm not in denial about it." Deciding it was as good as it was going to get, he went downstairs to meet Kurt in the hall.

Dave took the opportunity to admire Kurt before he was noticed. _Gorgeous as usual._ He was wearing some sort of dark blue trousers and a gray sweater – _cardigan, he'd probably say_ – and had a bright red scarf draped around his neck. _Okay, yeah. That's casual for Kurt. That's definitely casual – shit. I tried too hard. Is it too late to go upstairs and change again before he notices me?_

Kurt turned around and smiled, and – _I'm imagining things._ Had there been a look of frank appreciation on his face? No. There couldn't have been. Dave dismissed it as a figment of his entirely too desperate imagination.

"Finn already took off to pick up Rachel," Kurt said. "I smell a plot."

"As long as the plot smells like Italian food, I think we'll survive," Dave said. "Who's driving?"

"You," Kurt said. "Your truck is in the driveway, so you'd have to back it out for me to get my car out of the garage anyway. It's simpler."

Dave nodded. "Works for me."

They grabbed their coats and headed out to the truck and left for Breadstix, jokingly theorizing about what their friends might have up their sleeves as they drove. Dave pulled into the parking lot at exactly five minutes to six, and they looked around at all the parked cars.

"I don't recognize any of them," Kurt said. "Do you?"

"No," Dave said in resignation. "Want to go find out what they pulled anyway?"

"Like you said, it's Italian. We'll survive." Kurt gave him a look of mock-despair. "We who are about to die salute you, Santana."

"Oh God, oh God," Dave muttered, opening his door. "We're all gonna die."

The hostess smiled when they walked into the restaurant. "You must be Kurt and Dave," she said warmly. "Your friend came by with a photo."

"What did she look like?" Kurt asked.

"She was short, with brown hair and bangs," the hostess said.

"Rachel," Kurt growled.

"May I show you to your table?" the hostess asked, motioning for them to follow her. Dave shrugged and followed in her footsteps, Kurt not far behind him. "Here we are," she said cheerfully. "Your server will be out with your appetizer in a few minutes."

"We're not getting menus?" Dave asked.

"Oh no," the hostess said. "Your friend was quite clear on that. Everything has been pre-ordered and paid for." _I'm going to kill them all._

"I'm going to kill them all," Kurt said under his breath as he took a seat on one side of the booth. Dave suppressed a laugh.

"I'll help you hide the bodies," he said, sliding in across the table.

"Oh!" the hostess said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of her skirt pocket. "I nearly forgot. Your friend left you this." She handed it to Kurt and left them with one last smile.

"I'm afraid to open this," Kurt said.

Dave shrugged. "How much worse can it get?"

"Don't jinx us," Kurt said. He unfolded the paper with great trepidation and began to read it aloud. "Dear Dave and Kurt, We're so sorry we couldn't make it. My dads invited Finn to stay for dinner, and Anthony and Mercedes went to go see a movie. Puck and Sam are playing Call of Duty at Sam's house, Quinn and her mom are having a mother-daughter bonding night, Tina and Mike went for Dim Sum with Mike's mother, Artie is busy writing his English paper, Azimio is helping his mom out at the shop, and Brittany and Santana are apparently busy doing things I'm not terribly comfortable writing about. But to make up for our no-show, we've paid for your meal and picked out lots of delicious food for you to eat. Enjoy! Yours Truly, Rachel Berry."

"You don't get to kill them all," Dave said. "I get to kill at least half of them myself."

"They are dead to me," Kurt said, crumpling the letter in his hand. "Dead."

They looked at each other with reluctant amusement, finding solidarity in their mutual plight. "So," Dave said after a moment, grinning. "Come here often?"

Kurt burst into laughter. "Oh my god," he said, giggling. "That's the most cliché icebreaker I've ever heard."

"I can do original," Dave said. "What happens when a polar bear stands on a frozen pond?"

"What?" Kurt asked, still trying to get his laughter under control.

"It breaks the ice. Hi, I'm Dave."

That set Kurt off again. "You're terrible. No, really. You're truly awful."

"Thanks. I try," Dave said. _I try to make you laugh, and I love it when I do._ "You know we're going to have to get back at them."

"Definitely," Kurt agreed. "I just can't think of anything suitably cruel and unusual that would be considered appropriate payback. It's all falling short of the mark."

"We could go old school," Dave suggested. "Glue their stuff together, whoopee cushions, leaky pens –"

"And now I have a very good idea of how you spent your childhood," Kurt said. "Your teachers must have hated you."

"Maybe," Dave said. "But I'm not telling." _Oh my god. I'm flirting. I need to stop flirting._

Their server showed up before Kurt could answer. "Your appetizer," he told them, setting two identical plates in front of them. "Steamed artichoke with a butter sauce for dipping. Enjoy."

"Thank you," Kurt said distractedly, looking down at his plate. "If our main course is anything like this one, then I think we've moved past murder to justifiable homicide."

"Why's that?" Dave asked as he pulled one of the outer leaves off and dipped the end into the butter.

Kurt did the same. "Because artichokes are purported to be aphrodisiacs."

Dave dropped his butter-coated leaf onto his plate and looked across the table at Kurt. "You're kidding."

"I wish I were," Kurt said. He placed the end between his teeth and gently bit down, scraping off the tender parts as he pulled the leaf outward. Dave blushed and looked back down at his plate. _Oh god. I'm not going to survive this._

Grimly he picked up the leaf again and followed Kurt's lead, keeping his eyes fixed on his plate. _All I have to do is wait for the main course to arrive. This won't last forever._

"Is something bothering you?" Kurt asked.

Dave pointed at him without looking up. "That. It's very – distracting."

"Oh god," Kurt said, sounding mortified. "I'm going to find out who ordered this for us and I'm going to kill them myself."

"Aren't we killing them all anyway?" Dave asked.

"Yes," Kurt said. "But I want to devote special attention to this one."

"Five bucks says it's Rachel," Dave said.

Kurt laughed. "No bet. She has to be the one."

"We could leave a dead fish in the back of her car," Dave said. "Slip it in before class starts, and by the time school's out her whole car will stink."

"Actually," Kurt said thoughtfully, "I think the best revenge we can get is to keep acting like we always do. We'll thank them for the nice dinner and then do absolutely nothing different. It would frustrate them so much."

"That's not a bad idea," Dave said. "I'm all in favor of causing frustration."

"I just want to see their faces when they realize it didn't work," Kurt said. He reached across the table and tapped Dave's plate with his fork, making Dave look up. "I'm not saying we probably won't get there in the end," he said, smiling, "But some things just shouldn't be rushed."

Dave smiled back. "Y' know, I actually agree with you on that now." _You're worth the wait. Every second of it._ "But hypothetically speaking –"

"Of course," Kurt said.

"Would this be a good first date?"

"It would be okay," Kurt said. "But it's a bit too pedestrian. A first date has to be more memorable than every other first date that our classmates go on. Otherwise it's just ordinary, and ordinary doesn't make for a truly great memory." He flashed Dave another one of his wide smiles, the ones that made his eyes scrunch up around the corners. "Hypothetically speaking, of course." _And now you're flirting. No. You're not flirting. Right?_ "So tell me about the game coming up against Armstrong High."

"You don't like football," Dave said.

"I don't care about football," Kurt corrected him. "But you do. And we have another two courses ahead of us while we're here eating on our friends' dime, so I want to hear about something that you like. And later, I can go on at length about how much I despise Andrew Lloyd Webber, and then we can talk about what you did at the garage today, and I'll probably manage to teach you a few things that my dad hasn't gotten around to yet. Sound like a plan?"

"Sounds like a great plan," Dave said. "Okay, so Armstrong's got a really good offense this year – good enough that Coach Beiste has been drilling our defensive line nonstop the past couple weeks. Their guys are fast." Kurt nodded his understanding, and Dave grinned. _You're the best. For you, I'd listen to an hour of griping about this Webber guy._

Before he knew it, the appetizers were being cleared away and new plates were being set in front of them. Dave smelled garlic rising from the linguine, and Kurt sighed. "Justifiable homicide it is."

Dave twirled a few strands of linguine around his fork and popped it in his mouth. "Mm." He swallowed and leaned back in his seat. "So what sucks about Andrew Lloyd Webber?"

His friends were all interfering, nosy jerks, and they were all going to die messy, painful deaths. But this was still the best non-date he'd ever been on.

* * *

The quote is from the movie Serenity, which came out after Firefly was tragically canceled.

Feedback is always appreciated!


	15. Zombies at the 50 Yard Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On Thursday, a week before the championship game, Kurt rushed over to the table that Dave was sitting at with some of the other football guys. He shoved Finn over and sat down hard on the bench between Dave and his stepbrother, white-faced and wide-eyed.

On Thursday, a week before the championship game, Kurt rushed over to the table that Dave was sitting at with some of the other football guys. He shoved Finn over and sat down hard on the bench between Dave and his stepbrother, white-faced and wide-eyed.

"That's the look of someone who's either seen a ghost or had a bad encounter with Coach Sylvester," Rashad said. "So which is it?"

"Coach Sylvester wants to kill Brittany," Kurt said. He absentmindedly stole Dave's iced coffee and took a large, bracing gulp. "With a cannon."

"She what?" Azimio asked incredulously. "You've gotta be kidding."

Kurt shook his head. "Apparently she's bored. She rented a human cannon for Regionals, and she's planning on putting Brittany in it."

"That's not good," Finn said. "Aren't there like safety codes and things that would stop her from doing that?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Finn. It's Sue Sylvester. Need I say more?" Finn shook his head.

"But won't Figgins stop her from using it?" Mike asked. "He's always freaking out about lawsuits and the school budget. There's no way he won't shut this down."

Kurt took another sip of Dave's coffee and stole one of Finn's tater tots. "He probably will," Kurt said, "But you know Coach Sylvester will have some sort of counterattack that will throw everything into utter chaos."

"That's how it works," Puck said. "So, I'm all in favor of Brittany not dying, and Figgins should definitely put an end to that. But what do you think Coach Sylvester will do to get back at him?"

"Whatever it is," Kurt said, "It won't be aimed at Figgins. She'll go after the Glee Club – and the football team. She hates Coach Beiste as much as she hates Glee, and if she can mess things up for all of us, she'll do it."

"Yeah, but what can we do?" Sam asked with a fatalistic shrug. "It's no different than it always is. Coach Sylvester screws us over; we deal with it and hope that the next time she feels like messing with us doesn't come too soon."

"True," Kurt said. "But I was thinking that if her retaliatory act does affect both the Glee Club and the football team, then if there's anything at all that we can do to help each other out, we should do it. Strength in numbers, right?"

"I don't see how we'd ever need help from the Glee Club," Azimio said. "No offense. But if there is something, then yeah. Why not?"

"Same way we'll help you out if you need it," Rashad said to Kurt.

"You already know what my answer is," Dave said, and Kurt grinned. _I'm being obvious. In front of our friends. This is why they rag on us._

"True, but it's always polite to ask first," Kurt said. _And you're flirting. Are you? I can't tell. Damn it._

"You know," Rashad said, "By the time you two stop dancing around each other and get your acts together, I'm just not gonna care. Hear me? I'm not. Gonna. Care."

"I don't care that you won't care," Dave said, "Because it's none of your business."

"Whatever," Finn said, rolling his eyes. "What about you, dude?" he asked White.

White, who'd been silent since Kurt's arrival, said, "Yeah, why not? Hell, it could even be fun."

Puck nodded. "So that leaves Epstein, Girardi, McCarthy, and Tucker."

"If we take it to Coach, she'll probably make 'em help out too," Dave said. "Besides, Epstein'll go for it. He's okay. Eight of us, plus Sam and Artie? Yeah, we can talk 'em around."

"With aggressive negotiations," Sam suggested with a smirk.

"Nerd," Rashad said.

Sam laughed. "You got the reference. What does that make you?"

"Culturally literate," Rashad told him.

"Keep telling yourself that, internet junkie," Azimio said. He looked around the table. "So we all agree?"

"Looks like it," Dave said. He turned to Kurt and said, "You've got yourself a deal." They shook hands with mock-solemnity. "So – can I have my coffee back now?"

Kurt passed it back over sheepishly. "Sorry. I'm a little worked up."

"Here," Azimio said, reaching across the table to pass Kurt his untouched slushy. "Have some sugar to go with that caffeine." Kurt reached out to take it, and froze suddenly. Azimio froze as well.

"Is this as surreal a moment for you as it is for me?" Kurt asked.

"Yes," Azimio said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Now take the damn slushy."

Kurt finished the motion he'd stopped midway through and accepted the slushy. "Thank you," he said in a somewhat stunned sounding voice, and Azimio quickly retracted his hand, looking disconcerted.

"You know," Finn said. "If there's anything at all that proves to me that things have changed around here? That right there would be it."

"Moving right along," Puck said. "We're ready for Hurricane Sylvester, there's been a symbolic slushy gesture, yadda yadda. Now we get back to the important stuff we were talking about before this."

"The original BioShock is better," Sam and Mike said at once.

Rashad snorted. "You're fucked in the head, both of you. BioShock Two has a way better story line."

"BioShock was revolutionary," Mike said.

"And the sequel's protagonist is so much better," Puck said. "Come on. The villains actually make sense in that one."

"The hell the villains don't make sense in the original," Sam retorted. "The only way they don't is if you weren't fucking paying attention to anything while you were playing."

"Multiplayer," Rashad said. "Enough said."

Kurt leaned in to ask Dave in a low voice, "You don't have an opinion?"

"I'm waiting until they start arguing about Halo," Dave said. "'Reach' is where it's at." Kurt laughed quietly and took a drink of his slushy.

"'Would you kindly,'" Mike shot back. "Enough said."

"You're all actually a bunch of nerds, aren't you?" Kurt asked, his knee knocking against Dave's.

Dave knocked his knee back gently. "Don't tell anyone. We have reputations to protect."

Kurt laughed again, and Dave smiled, shoving his little cardboard boat of tots over so that they could share. Within minutes their agreement to assist each other in the face of Coach Sylvester's machinations had completely slipped from his mind.

In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have been so surprised to find himself in the choir room during lunch the following day with the rest of the non-Glee starters as they all planned out how they were going to pull off a halftime show without cheerleaders.

TEAOMAL

At the end of their second lunch rehearsal on Monday, Dave turned to follow the other football guys who had already left the stage only to be stopped in his tracks by a very determined looking Rachel Berry. Behind her, the rest of the Gleeks, Kurt included, were standing and watching with expressions of amusement.

"Why aren't you in Glee?" Rachel demanded.

He looked down at her, surprised. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," she said. "Your obvious reasons for not joining last year notwithstanding, why wouldn't you join now?"

Dave shrugged. "Never really thought about it." _Liar, liar, pants on fire._

"Never really thought about it?" Rachel asked in a near-shriek, as if the very idea was impossible to believe. "How could you not? You have to have at least considered it for a moment or two."

"Maybe for a moment," Dave said.

"Well, you're getting no say in it," Rachel told him. "You're joining Glee. Now."

"Why?" Dave asked.

Rachel sputtered and threw her hands into the air. "Would someone please explain this to him?" she pleaded to the rest of the assembled Glee Club.

"You have a good voice," Sam said. "Seriously."

"And you can follow dance steps," Quinn said, "Which puts you ahead of Finn in that regard." Finn nodded in agreement.

"You don't have to," Kurt said. "But we'd be glad to have you."

"Really?" Dave asked. "You think I should? But –"

 _Kurt. Tina. Finn. Quinn. Artie. Sam. I've fucked with all of you. Why?_

"If it's about the bullying," Mercedes said, "We figured if Kurt and Tina were cool with you joining, then we'd be too. Besides, we like you."

"And if it's about how Glee could make you look gay," Puck said, "Dude. Too late."

Dave laughed at that. "No, it's – it's definitely the first one." He looked around at all of them, and they looked back with hope in their eyes. "You guys seriously think I'm good enough?"

"Yes," Rachel said firmly. "And if you don't join, I'm going to find a way to make your life miserable, and I will do whatever it is incessantly until you give in."

"It's less an invitation and more a conscription, I suppose," Kurt said. "But if you really don't want to, I'll do my best to fend Rachel off."

"I – yeah," Dave said. He smiled. "I'd like that. Sure."

Rachel shrieked with joy and launched herself into Finn's arms. "Yes!"

"You won't regret it," Kurt said. He stopped and thought for a moment. "Well, you might. But it's worth it."

"I'm sure it is," Dave said. _Holy fucking shit. I'm in Glee._ "Did you notice? You dropped an extracurricular last Friday, and now I've picked one up today."

"Look at you, you overachiever," Kurt said. "Football ends for you this Friday, though, so don't let it go to your head."

"Who, me?" Dave asked innocently. "Never." _Yeah. This is flirting. We're flirting. No way. We're flirting._

"That's what I'm talking about," Santana said. "This. You flirt. It's sickeningly sweet and it's gone on for too long. Why don't you just date?"

"Because it annoys you," Kurt said, shooting Dave a quick smile and a surreptitious wink.

Dave nodded. "Pretty much, yeah."

"I'm gonna go with Rashad on this one," Puck said. "I'm gonna just not care."

"I sincerely hope so," Kurt said, "Because that would leave us with two less matchmaking busybodies with too much time on their hands."

"I resent that accusation," Rachel said from within the circle of Finn's arms.

"You resemble it, you mean," Kurt corrected her.

Further squabbling was called to a halt as the ten minute warning bell rang, and they all either jumped off the stage or took the ramp or stairs to collect their backpacks from the front row. "See you in Coach Beiste's office after school," Kurt called over his shoulder as Rachel dragged him up the aisle. Dave waved goodbye, smiling.

Puck tossed Dave's backpack to him. "Not gonna care," he said again. "Let's get to chem. You'll see your sweetheart after practice."

"We're just friends," Dave said. He was getting a lot of practice at saying that to their friends. It helped that it amused him more than it bothered him these days – it lent his words a rather convincing air. One their friends could see right through, of course.

"I'll believe that when Rachel takes a lifetime vow of silence," Puck said. "Shift your ass, dude. Rate you're moving, Artie's gonna beat us there."

"One of these days," Artie said as he wheeled his chair up the aisle toward the door, "I'm going to get an electric chair, and you'll all have to run to catch up with me."

"And until that day," Puck said, grabbing the handles on the back of Artie's wheelchair, "We're just gonna have to do all the running for you."

Dave just grinned and ambled along in their wake. _I'm in Glee. With Kurt. I'm in Glee with Kurt. Well, damn. That's just too fucking cool._

TEAOMAL

After the fourth lunchtime rehearsal, Mr. Schuester deemed them ready to take a break, so at lunch the following day, all twenty of them were rounded up and stuck backstage to learn how to apply zombie makeup. Quinn sat on the counter in front of the makeup mirror and held up a small tub of pasty white cream and a wedge shaped sponge. "You don't want to over-apply it," she told him, dabbing the sponge gently into the cream. "You want to look like you've been dead a few days, not like you're a clown without the colored parts added." She began to lightly pat his forehead and nose with the sponge, explaining the rest of what she would do so that he'd be able to follow her directions next time. "We'll put some dark gray around your eyes to make them look sunken, and use some of the fake blood Puck's monopolizing to make one of your cheeks look all veiny and gross."

"Sounds cool," Dave said. He caught sight of Kurt in the mirror's reflection. A thought struck him and he started to laugh. Quinn left off applying the white face stuff and looked at him strangely.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Dave spun around in his seat, still laughing, and when Kurt looked over, still smudging a sickly green-black color around his eyes with his finger, he said, "So, zombies. And music."

Kurt stared at him for a moment, and then he started to laugh as well. "I can't believe I missed that," he said.

"I didn't realize it until just now," Dave said. He looked up at Quinn. "Sorry. Keep going, please."

"Am I missing something?" Mercedes asked, looking between Dave and Kurt.

Finn shook his head. "It's this thing of theirs. Zombie movies and musicals. They trade off watching them."

"Oh god, you have a _thing_?" Santana asked in exasperation. "Do you even get how stupidly into each other you are? Are you seriously that clueless?" _Me? No. Kurt? No idea._

"At this point I'm just going to believe them when they say that they want to annoy us," Rachel said. "It makes as much sense as anything else I've come up with to explain their behavior."

"You could always buy us dinner again," Kurt suggested, and ducked when half a dozen makeup sponges came flying at him from all directions. "I'm kidding!"

Joey Tucker, an offensive tackle who rarely said anything but never seemed to say anything nice when he did, spoke up. "You're okay with this stuff?" he asked the assembled Glee Club.

"Well, yeah," Finn said, looking puzzled. "Why wouldn't we be?"

Girardi scoffed. "I don't know. Maybe because they're –"

"Finish that thought," Azimio said, cracking his knuckles. "Please." Girardi subsided.

Artie looked to the five football players who weren't in the GSA with the rest of them. "Question for you. Are you having fun doing this?"

White and Epstein nodded, and Girardi shrugged.

"Eh," McCarthy said. "It's not bad."

"Could be worse," Tucker added.

"And you do know that Coach Beiste has no problem replacing you with second string players if you don't do the halftime show with us," Artie said. They all nodded at his words, and he continued, "So let's have some ground rules. You don't give any of us a hard time for being who we are for any reason, and we'll make sure it continues to be fun for you."

Puck's smile was more threatening than friendly. "But if that's not something you can do, I'm more than willing to make the rest of your time with us really fucking unpleasant. Got it?"

"We're cool," White said. "Ep?"

"I don't have a problem with any of you," Epstein said. He picked up the makeup sponge again and shot the other three a forbidding look. "I don't care if you guys fuck this up for yourselves. Coach is just going to swap you out if you do. But don't fuck this up for the rest of us."

"Yeah, whatever," McCarthy muttered, but he turned back to the mirror, and that seemed to be the end of it for the time being.

When they finished applying their zombie makeup and all looked appropriately undead, Mr. Schuester showed up in the doorway.

"Okay!" he said, looking around. "You guys look great. Now, Coach Beiste and I were thinking that we'd run through the number one last time before we head off to class. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great," Finn said, acting as spokesperson for all of them. "Guys?"

"You can never be too prepared," Rachel said as she stood. "Let's go rehearse some more, shall we?"

"We've got this thing on lock," Rashad said. "But why not? It's fun."

"You're giving us enough time to get this stuff off before class, right?" Girardi asked.

Mr. Schuester nodded. "We'll leave before the ten minute warning bell."

"Alright then," Girardi said. "Let's go make like zombies." And they all went out to the stage for yet another run through of their dance steps.

After a last successful rehearsal, all the football players left the auditorium together by unspoken agreement, laughing and joking and ribbing one another for missteps and how weird they looked as zombies.

"I'm half tempted to go to class like this," Rashad said as they strolled down the hall.

"Half tempted, nothing," Puck said. "I _am_ going to class like this. Can you imagine the look on Little's face if you 'n me 'n Artie all show up looking like zombies?"

"That'd be awesome," Dave said. "But this stuff itches. I'm gonna wash it off before I head to chem."

"Same here," Finn said. "But – can you imagine how freaked out the guys from Sherman would be if we played the second half with this stuff on?" They cracked up at that, even Tucker finding it funny.

"We should do it," Mike said. "That would be so cool."

They were stopped short by four very unwelcome people stepping into their path. _Great. Cooper._ His former teammate smiled maliciously. "Hey, ladies," he said. "I see Karofsky's been giving you makeup tips. Little heavy on the foundation, Hudson, but you're working that look. I'm sure all the boys are gonna come a-running."

"What the hell do you want, Cooper?" Finn asked, eyeing the large slushy cups that Cooper and the other hockey players were holding.

"Just wanted to let you know how brave we think you are to commit social suicide with such flair," Cooper said. "You're gonna make dancing fools outta yourselves and plummet to the bottom of the social ladder, and we're just gonna sit back and laugh our asses off." He gave them all a smirking once-over. "I bet the student body's not gonna take too kindly to the entire football team being made up of fags and girls."

"You watch your mouth, Cooper!" Finn snarled, lunging forward. Dave threw out an arm and caught him across the chest.

"I've got this, man," he said. He looked Cooper up and down dismissively. Three months ago, Cooper and his cronies confronting them in the hall like this would have scared the crap out of him, and he'd have blustered and lashed out and sabotaged himself by trying to prove that he was still top dog in the school. But right now, he had the rest of the varsity first string at his back, and he could see over Cooper's shoulders that a few yards down the hall Kurt and Tina were standing and watching, and he felt a surge of confidence.

"Is that for me?" he asked, reaching out and plucking the slushy cup from Cooper's hand. "Thanks. I love cherry." He grinned as Azimio let out a snort of laughter behind him.

"You're all gonna go down in flames for putting on this song and dance," Cooper said. "You're gonna lose any respect people had for you for doing this pansy crap in front of the whole school."

"Maybe," Dave said, "But you're missing a couple things. It's not just the Glee Club doing the halftime show, numbnuts. The entire starting lineup is doing it. And if we're doing it, and we say it's cool, then you know what? People are gonna think it's cool. That's how it works. Welcome to high school, Cooper. And as for the pansy crap?" He shook his head pityingly. "Where the hell have you been, dude? I'm _out_. I've been out for months. And for some reason, I'm still more popular than you. So either the gay thing's not as big a deal as you think it is, or it's your butt-ugly face that sends people running away screaming."

"So that's your entire theory pretty much shot to pieces," Finn said. "Wanna try for another, or are you good with just handing over those tasty looking slushies and crawling back under the rocks you came from?" He, Rashad, and Puck all held out their hands and stared Cooper and his friends down. Slowly, the rest of the slushy cups were passed over, and the hockey players turned and walked off down the hall, affecting a casual air as if to show that they hadn't been thoroughly humiliated.

"Ha _ha!_ " Rashad pounded Dave on the back enthusiastically. "You, my friend, are a badass. The baddest badass. Fucking hell, man. You schooled those puckheads big time."

"See you back at the locker room to get this crap off," Dave said, grinning. He set off down the hall toward Kurt and Tina. _Damn that felt good._

Tina cringed slightly at his approach, and he frowned. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head and smiled apologetically. "Nothing," she said. "It's just that letterman's jackets and big slushy cups coming toward me do bad things to my lizard brain."

"Oh," Dave said. He looked down at his jacket, and then at the slushy in his hand, feeling suddenly guilty. "Do you want it?" he asked her, looking back up and holding it out.

Her smile grew wider, and she stepped closer to take the slushy from him with both hands. "Thank you," she said softly, and it felt like forgiveness. "This is my favorite flavor."

Pleased, Dave looked over at Kurt and found that he was being watched, a warm look in Kurt's eyes. "I see that big, bad, takes-no-shit Dave Karofsky is back in action," he said with a smile. _'You're less insecure,'_ he seemed to be saying.

"Can't do anything about the height, and I'm not planning on taking shit from anyone – well, besides our friends, who can't seem to help themselves," Dave said. "But there's not a whole lot of bad, I don't think."

"No," Kurt said. "There's not really any bad at all."

At his words Dave had to look away, happy and flustered. "I should get the zombie makeup off before class starts," he said. "It kinda itches."

"Okay," Kurt said, sounding amused. "I'll see you after school."

"I'll be there," Dave said, and he walked off toward the locker room before he could embarrass himself by saying something sappy in front of Tina. Or to Kurt, period, for that matter.

It wasn't until he was splashing water on his face that it hit him. Tina had cringed.

Kurt hadn't.

TEAOMAL

It was absolute pandemonium in the locker room. Dave could barely hear himself speak, let alone think. Someone jumped on him from behind, and he staggered, throwing out a hand to catch himself on his locker.

"WE WON!" Rashad yelled in his ear. "WE FUCKING WON!"

"Get off me, you fucking maniac!" Dave shouted back, laughing. "I know we won! I was there!"

"FUCK YES!" he yelled again, jumping down to the floor to fling himself on Azimio. "WE FUCKING WON!"

"We did better than that," Puck hollered over Sam's head. "We crushed 'em!"

"WOOOO!" Sam shouted. "That was AWESOME!"

Coach Beiste banged on the lockers with a helmet to get their attention, and they all turned to face her with enormous smiles. "I'm so proud of all of you," she said. "That was one hell of a game – and an amazing halftime show. I've coached a lot of teams, and I've seen a lot of players, but I have to tell you, all of you make me prouder to be a football coach than any team I've ever coached before. You boys have really pulled together, and you've managed to turn a group of talented individual players into one unstoppable force." She looked around the crowded room and smiled. "It's been a real privilege this season, and unless you're graduating this June, I'd better see _all_ of you back here next year."

They all cheered and banged their fists on the locker doors, and she just watched them with a proud smile. "Alright!" she finally yelled. "Now, before I can let you all get out of your zombie makeup and dressed, we have two things to take care of. Hudson!" Finn waved. "Hudson, I think all your teammates will agree with me on this. You're our MVP this year." She held up a smallish brass trophy shaped like a football. "Gotta get this engraved for you, but it's yours, kid, and you earned it. You have some great leadership skills, and I don't think we'd be the team we are if we didn't have you."

They all shouted their approval, and Dave was sure that underneath the thick green zombie makeup Finn was blushing.

"Next up," Coach Beiste said, waving the battered football in the air. "This isn't just any game ball, fellas. This is McKinley's first championship ball in years. And I gotta tell you, it took me a while to decide who it ought to go to." They all looked at her anticipatorily as she looked at them all slowly, drawing out the suspense. She grinned broadly. "Karofsky," she said, "I believe this belongs to you."

Dave sat down on the bench hard as his teammates whooped and banged on the lockers again, and Rashad tackled him again, laughing. "Hear THAT?" he yelled. "Think you're still just 'that one gay jock?' You're the MAN! You're HOT SHIT!"

"Karofsky, your playing improved with every game this season," Coach Beiste said, "And tonight, you were incredible. I can only take credit for so much of that. You started with natural talent, and you got better with perseverance and determination. You're a good football player, kid, and you have the makings of a great one." She reached out to hand him the ball, and he took it gingerly, staring down at it in wonder.

 _This is mine. I can't believe this is mine._

"Alright, boys," Coach Beiste said. "Get cleaned up, get dressed, get outta here. Go celebrate!"

As soon as she left they all went back to jumping around and shouting, doing their best to celebrate while simultaneously stripping off their uniforms. Dave, still mindful of his teammates' issues with him despite how well things had gone all week, stripped down and pulled on his street clothes without showering. He was sure he smelled sweaty and ripe, but he was just too high on their victory to care. He went over to the sink, game ball tucked beneath his arm, and started scrubbing off the zombie makeup with a wet paper towel.

The faucet at the sink next to him turned on, and he looked into the mirror to see Tucker wetting a wad of paper towels. Tucker looked up as well, and their eyes met in the mirror. Dave waited, half expecting to be told that it still didn't make him normal or one of them or any number of things. Finally, Tucker turned the faucet off and started swiping at his zombie makeup. "Nice playing out there," he said simply.

Dave shrugged and returned to his task of trying to remove the fake blood from his cheek. "Thanks. You too."

After he'd managed to clean most of the makeup off, he nodded a goodbye to Tucker and left the locker room, pleased to see that Kurt, Burt and Carole were waiting outside the locker room door like always.

Kurt reached him before Carole did, laughing and yanking him into an exuberant hug. "That was amazing!" he said excitedly. Dave passed the game ball off to Burt so he could return the hug. _Hug number four. This may just be my favorite one. Laughter and happiness improve things exponentially._

"I probably stink," he said apologetically. "Sorry about that."

Kurt gave him another hard squeeze and let go. "Not really," he said. "I hadn't noticed."

Burt stepped in to clap him on the back. "You got the game ball?" he asked. He didn't wait for the answer, handing it back over and beaming with pride. "You deserve it for the way you played."

Dave grinned. "Finn got MVP," he said.

"That's my boy," Carole said, giving Dave a strong hug. "Both of you did so well tonight."

Kurt draped his arms around Burt and Carole's shoulders. "Victory ice cream?"

"Victory sundaes, I think," Burt said. "All three of you were amazing. That was a better halftime show than I've ever seen the cheerleaders put on, and that was one great game. I'm proud of all three of you."

"Finn better hurry up," Kurt said. "My craving for ice cream is nearly unbearable."

Dave nodded his agreement, but in truth? In truth he could stay here forever, right in this moment surrounded by people who were proud of him, victorious and ecstatic and smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. Kurt was right. It was the incredible moments in life that truly made the best memories.

* * *

Feedback is very much appreciated!


	16. The Hook and Ladder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _There is now a poll on my profile page regarding the title of this fic, as I no longer feel that it really fits with the story. Please go take a gander and let me know what you think._

_There is now a poll on my profile page regarding the title of this fic, as I no longer feel that it really fits with the story. Please go take a gander and let me know what you think._

* * *

"This is baptism by fire, isn't it?" Dave asked Kurt and Finn as they walked out to Kurt's car after Glee.

Kurt laughed. "Don't think of it like that," he said. "Think of it more like an interesting opportunity to sing a song that's appropriate for the holiday."

"Love songs," Dave said flatly. "We're singing love songs. _To_ someone in Glee." A week ago joining the Glee Club had seemed like a fantastic idea. Now all he wanted to do was hide out in his room until the weekend came.

"It could be fun," Kurt said, going around to the driver's side and unlocking the car. When everyone was inside, he continued, "I'm going to sing to Mercedes."

"Really?" Finn asked. "Doesn't it have to be a love song?" He cast what Dave was sure he thought was a stealthy look at him in the rearview mirror.

"You think Queen's 'You're My Best Friend' doesn't qualify?" Kurt asked in return. "It has 'I love you' right in the lyrics. Just because it's a song about friendship doesn't mean it's not also a song about love."

"Yeah, I guess," Finn said. "But isn't it kinda low for you? And since when do you listen to Queen?"

"It's still within my range," Kurt said. "Remember Mellencamp?" Finn snickered, and Kurt blushed and went on. "And I don't listen to Queen. I heard that song back in September and I've been dying to sing it to Mercedes ever since. This is the perfect opportunity." He raised an eyebrow at Finn. "You're just smug because you and Rachel got your songs out of the way after Mr. Schue made his announcement."

"You're just jealous," Finn said.

"That you devote so much time thinking about what you're going to sing to Rachel that you can jump up and sing an Aerosmith song five minutes after the week's assignment is announced?" Kurt asked. Though his tone was disdainful, his eyes were smiling playfully. "I can think of better people to devote such a large portion of my brain to."

"Don't dis my girlfriend," Finn said, but he too sounded too relaxed to have taken any offense. "It wasn't just any Aerosmith song, either."

"Right," Kurt said dryly. "It was the sappy I-can't-believe-this-is-Aerosmith song."

"Exactly," Finn said cheerfully. He leaned forward and stuck his head between the seats. "What're you going to sing?" he asked Dave.

"No clue," Dave said. "I'll figure it out before Friday, at least." _I hope. Love songs. God damn it._

"I heard Puck and Artie talking about doing a duet from Scrubs," Finn said. "That one song JD and Turk sing, you know?"

"No," Dave said. "I've never watched the show." He looked at Kurt, and Kurt shrugged.

"Oh," Finn said. "Well, it'll be funny."

Dave made some sound of vague agreement, and zoned out on the rest of the conversation, staring out the window as they drove home. _Love songs. Why did it have to be love songs? Why couldn't it have been singing love songs as a group? Singing love songs in general? Did it seriously have to be singing them to someone in Glee?_

He followed Finn and Kurt into the house, and when Dave made to keep walking past the living room, Kurt asked, "Aren't you staying down here for homework?"

Dave shook his head ruefully, aiming his most convincing 'nothing's bothering me' smile at Kurt. "No. Apparently I have research to do."

"We're still on for watching 'Re-Animator' after dinner, right?" Kurt asked.

"Of course," Dave said. "Think you could keep me away from a zombie movie?"

"Good point." Kurt unbuckled his book bag and took out his English binder. "I'll come get you for dinner, okay?"

"Okay." Dave went up the stairs to his room and collapsed on his bed.

 _Fucking love songs._ He groaned and unzipped the front pocket of his backpack, fishing around until his fingers came into contact with his iPod. _Let's see if there's anything on here I could possibly sing without fucking things up royally._ He turned it on and scrolled to the playlist he would deny with his last breath that he'd made and slipped his earbuds in. _I'm screwed_ , he thought as the first song started up. _I'm so, so screwed._

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out to read the text.

 **DUDE SO UR GONNA  
SING SOMETHING  
HOT TO HIM RITE?**

"Fuck off, Puck," he muttered to his phone. A minute later it buzzed again.

 **If you need any help  
finding an appropriate  
song to sing to Kurt  
I'd be more than happy  
to assist you. :) **

"You too, Rachel." Shortly after that, his phone buzzed a third time, and he resolved not to look. His willpower crumbled after about thirty seconds, and he flipped his phone open once more.

 **If you don't sing him  
something super  
romantic I will lose  
what small amount  
of respect I have  
for you.**

Dave turned off his phone and tossed it onto his backpack. "You're a horrible friend," he told Santana as he glared at the phone lying a few feet away. He closed his eyes and turned up the volume on his iPod. It was funny – in a nauseating, stomach churning way – but he'd never really thought about how ridiculously romantic his playlist was. _There isn't a single song on here I can sing without making a total fool of myself. Yeah. I'm screwed._

This was just not his week.

TEAOMAL

By Thursday he'd all but given up finding a song he could sing to Kurt that wouldn't be too romantic, and he knew it was time to call in outside assistance. He sent a text to Rashad from under his desk in Algebra II during second period in the hope that he might get some secondhand inspiration from one of his best friends.

 _  
**Can U make an  
excuse to talk 2  
me alone at lunch?  
I need advise.**   
_

The response came quickly, and Dave breathed a sigh of relief.

 **No prob.**

Sure enough, as soon as he walked into the cafeteria with Kurt and Azimio, Rashad pounced. "You're in trouble," he said, holding his phone away from his ear and putting his hand over the speaker. "Mom wants to know why you haven't been over for so long. Apologies are in order, man. Here. Talk to her." He thrust the phone into Dave's hands and pulled him away.

"You better grovel," Azimio called after him. "She may never feed you again if you don't."

"Hello?" he said into the phone, almost certain no one was on the line.

"Hello, Dave," Rashad's mother said warmly. "I understand we're creating a diversion."

He started to laugh, but quickly stifled it. "Yes. Thank you, Mrs. R. And, uh. I'm sorry?"

"Consider yourself thoroughly scolded, then," she said, "And make sure you come over soon. We miss seeing you."

"Will do, Mrs. R.," Dave said. "Bye." He handed the phone back to Rashad, who ended the call.

"Now tell me why you needed to ask me something you couldn't ask in front of the rest of our friends?" Rashad asked, looking casually around to make sure they were relatively alone.

"More like I couldn't ask you in front of Kurt," Dave said. "It's the Glee assignment this week."

"Ahh," Rashad said, eyes lighting up. "The love songs. How's that going?"

"In a word? Horribly," Dave said. "I can't think of anything I can sing to him that isn't way too – you know."

"Romantic," Rashad said. "Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem." He thought for a moment and stuck his hand out palm up, waggling his fingers. "Gimme your iPod."

"What?" Dave asked. "Why?"

"Because I want to see what's on it," Rashad said impatiently. "Come on, man. I know you have it on you. This is high school. Someone not having an iPod or something like it with them is strange and highly unusual."

Dave dug into his pocket and pulled out his iPod, handing it over almost reluctantly. Rashad stuck an earbud in one of his ears and fiddled with the wheel. "What are you looking for?" Dave asked.

"Your playlists," Rashad said, and Dave winced.

"Do you have to?"

"Don't worry, bro," Rashad said. "I already guessed you made a big mushy 'I love Kurt Hummel' playlist. Now it's just a matter of finding it – aha!" He looked up at Dave and grinned. "'Songs for KH' isn't exactly stealthy, man. Cute, though. Real cute."

"Shut up," Dave said, rubbing the back of his neck as it heated up with embarrassment.

"Just making an observation," Rashad said. "And wow. We need to wean you off the alt rock. This is unhealthy." He read through a few of the song titles in the playlist and added, "And if you try to deny you're lovesick again I'm gonna laugh in your face."

"How's that any different from usual?" Dave asked.

"It's like you don't even want my help," Rashad said. "Huh. This looks promising." He clicked on one of the songs and started listening, looking down at the iPod screen as he did.

"What?" Dave asked, trying to get a glimpse of what Rashad was listening to. His friend held up an index finger in a "wait a moment" gesture.

After a minute, Rashad hit pause and looked up. "We can hold off on the alt rock intervention for now," he said, "Because this is seriously the best song you could sing him." He handed the iPod back so that Dave could see what he'd been listening to.

"No," Dave said as soon as he took a look. "I can't. I've listened to that whole damned playlist ten times over this week trying to figure out if any of them would work, and no. There's no way I can sing this one. It puts way too much out there. We agreed to do stuff at his speed, and this? This is not his speed."

"Maybe it does put a lot out there," Rashad said. "But you have to admit that if there's any song in your playlist that really gets you, it's that one." He handed the earbud back and nodded at the iPod in Dave's hand. "Listen to it again."

Obediently, Dave stuck the proffered earbud in his own ear and hit play, listening to it the whole way through while Rashad stood by patiently. "Yeah," he said when it ended. "It does get me. But it's too –"

"Too what?" Rashad asked. "Too obvious? Too forward? Too risky?" At Dave's nod, he said, "Thought so. So it's too risky."

"I can't do it," Dave said again. "Things are good right now. I don't want to fuck that up."

Rashad put a hand on Dave's shoulder and looked him square in the eyes. "It might be. But you know what? Some of the best plays are the risky ones."

"Life isn't football," Dave said.

Rashad laughed and let go. "Everything can be turned into a sports analogy, bro." He stepped back and smiled slightly. "Take a chance, will you? Just think about it."

"I will," Dave said, and he followed Rashad back out to the cafeteria line to collect his lunch, mulling over his friend's words. The thought of taking a chance like that was so hard to really think about that he nearly dismissed it out of hand as he desperately wanted to do. But he was running out of both time and options, and if he didn't sing this song he would be right back where he'd started: with nothing.

It was a good song, energetic and bright, with vocals that were at the higher end of his range but still comfortably within reach. The mechanics of the song would work fine. And the lyrics – the lyrics were spot on. Too accurate for comfort, that was for sure. But there it was, right there in the lyrics – _'I'll put all my inhibitions aside.'_ And god, that made him think of Blaine and his awful advice and how he told Kurt to have courage. Kurt, who had more courage than Dave did, and it rankled a bit that he couldn't muster up the bravery to lay it all out on the line like that. And yet –

Wasn't he more secure now about who he was than he had been when he'd first come out? And weren't he and Kurt getting so much closer to really moving past everything that lay between them? He knew he hadn't been imagining that Kurt flirted with him these days, that Kurt never so much as tensed his shoulders when Dave surprised him, that they sat a bit closer together on the couch when they watched movies together. Maybe – _and there it is again, Kurt, you and your 'maybe'_ –it was time for Dave to take a chance. He paid for his pizza and drink on autopilot, still lost in thought, and followed Rashad back to their table where Azimio, Finn, Kurt, and Mercedes were already sitting.

"Mrs. R. forgive you?" Azimio asked.

"Yeah," Dave said, taking a seat between him and Kurt. "I groveled. Good advice."

"Don't know why Mom misses you," Rashad said. "It certainly isn't because you add to the décor. Not with that face."

"Don't go throwing around insults like that when your own face breaks mirrors," Dave shot back. "Makes you look like a dumbass."

Rashad smiled smugly and put his arm around Mercedes. She snuggled into his side, and his smile turned more genuine. "Good thing my girlfriend likes me for my winning personality, then."

"It's because you're a geek and you suck at bowling," she said happily. "And because your sisters trained you up well."

"That they did," he said. "And I thank them for it every time they call home."

Dave looked across the table at him, so obviously head over heels for Mercedes, and decided to ask. "Scale from off tackle to Hail Mary."

"Hook and ladder," Rashad said promptly.

"Risky."

Rashad nodded in agreement. "We've done riskier and pulled it off."

"Yeah," Dave said. He started to grin. "We have, haven't we?"

"Attaboy," Rashad said. He toasted Dave with his chocolate milk. "Here's to risky plays."

Dave lifted his pizza in return. "Amen," he said wholeheartedly. "A-fucking-men."

"What are you two talking about?" Finn asked, looking confused.

"Nothing, man," Rashad said. "Just talking football analogies."

TEAOMAL

On Friday after school, Dave arrived in the choir room a few minutes early with the sheet music he'd found on the internet last night. He approached the small group of student musicians as they were setting up. "Hey," he said. "I don't know how this works, but I brought you the music."

"Oh thank god," the guitarist said in a rush. "You wouldn't believe how often we have to just wing it. Most of the others just tell us what they're gonna sing right when they walk in the door without giving us anything to go off of but the name of the song." The others all looked relieved as well, and the papers were snatched out of his hands and distributed to the right people.

"Holy crap," the drummer said. "You even found the different parts for us. You're a god."

"'S not a big deal," Dave said, deciding not to tell them it had taken him a couple hours to find everything he needed to print out. "So, I've been wondering. Why are you guys always here? Just hanging out and playing backup three afternoons a week doesn't seem like all that much fun."

"It has its good points," the keyboardist said. "Plus it's worth an entire letter grade in orchestra if we do it for a quarter."

"Good practice for my band," the bassist said with a shrug.

"I work at a music store on the weekends," the drummer told him. "You wouldn't believe how much knowing about different genres comes in handy. I'm like the go-to girl now for music advice."

"Something I can add to college applications," the guitarist said distractedly, scanning the sheet music.

"Huh. That's cool." Dave gave them all a friendly nod and went up to the top riser to take a seat as the rest of the Gleeks began to arrive. Kurt arrived first with Mercedes, and they went up to sit by Dave, Kurt sitting on his left with Mercedes a seat over.

"You're here early," Kurt observed.

"Library's not far," Dave said. "I packed up early."

"That excited about the assignment, are you?" Kurt asked.

"If by excited you mean 'I can't believe I'm doing this,' then yeah," Dave said.

Santana dropped into the seat on Dave's right, Brittany taking the seat beside her. "Hey there, Romeo," she said. "How's it going?"

"If I pay you, will you go away?" Dave asked.

"Not on your life," she said. "Giving you shit is just too much fun."

Dave leaned back in his chair and reached out to tug at Santana's ponytail playfully. "That's what I figured."

"Hands off the hair," she ordered. "I'm not afraid to take you, meathead. You know what kind of training we got from Coach Sylvester? Boot camp looks like a luxury fitness retreat in comparison."

"She's kidding, right?" Dave asked Kurt.

"Sadly, no," Kurt said. "The month of intensive Jiu Jitsu training last spring was just the tip of the iceberg."

"That was fun," Brittany said. "It was way better than that time she took us out to Wayne National Forest for a week freshman year and left us there." She smiled. "It was really pretty there, though."

Kurt put a finger beneath Dave's chin and pushed his jaw up. "I like to tell myself that she's just making sure that we can survive whatever life throws at us post high school," Kurt said. "But in all likelihood she's just sadistic."

"Jesus." He was about to say more, but everyone had arrived and found seats, and Mr. Schuester was standing patiently in front of the room.

"Alright, kids," he said. "It's the last day for our Valentine's week. Everyone who's sung so far has done a fantastic job, and I'm sure we can expect the same from our remaining singers. Now, who haven't we heard from yet?" he asked, looking around the choir room. His eyes lit on the back riser where Dave, Kurt, Santana, Brittany and Mercedes were all sitting together. "Santana? Dave? Would one of you like to go first?"

Dave and Santana exchanged glances. "Ladies first?" he suggested hopefully.

"Don't give me that crap," Santana said with a smirk. "Man up and sing."

He sighed and stood. "If you insist," he said. "You just want to make Brittany wait, don't you?"

"That's not what this is," she said. "This is me wanting to make you sing to Kurt." The sound of poorly muffled laughter filled the room. "Get to it."

"I'm going," he said, making his way down to the floor. As he took a seat on the stool facing the risers, Rachel burst into a brief, spontaneous burst of applause, and Dave glared half-heartedly. "Okay," he said, looking up at Kurt but addressing the room at large. "So it took me until yesterday to figure out what to sing, but I think it's a pretty good song choice. Everyone's already guessed who I'm singing to –"

"Wasn't exactly a mystery, dude," Puck said, and Santana and Mercedes snickered.

"Anyway," Dave said, "You're right. So, Kurt. This is for you." He aimed a small smile up at Kurt, ignoring the exaggerated "awww"s that Santana, Mercedes, and Brittany all let out when Kurt smiled back.

He nodded to the musicians against the wall, and as soon as the music struck up, he started singing, not taking his eyes off of Kurt. "We should get jerseys, 'cause we make a good team," he sang, "But yours would look better than mine 'cause you're out of my league. And I know that it's so cliché to tell you that every day I spend with you is the new best day of my life. Everyone watching us just turns away with disgust; it's jealousy, they can see that we've got it going on."

Someone made an indistinct sound of glee, and in Dave's peripheral vision he could see that some of the other Gleeks were dancing in their seats. Finn seemed to be playing the air drums. "And I'm racking my brain for a new improved way to let you know you're more to me than what I know how to say; you're okay with the way this is going to be, 'cause this is going to be the best thing we've ever seen. If anyone could make me a better person you could, all I gotta say is I must've done something good. You came along one day and you rearranged my life, all I gotta say is I must've done something right, I must've done something right."

Kurt's return smile grew wider, and Dave, emboldened, launched into the second verse. "Maybe I'm just lucky, because it's hard to believe, believe that somebody like you'd end up with someone like me. And I know that it's so cliché to talk about you this way, but I'll push all my inhibitions aside. It's so very obvious to everyone watching us that we have got something real good going on."

The second pre-chorus sounded far stronger than the first, and it took him a second to realize that the rest of the Glee guys had joined in. He almost laughed, but just managed to keep it under control enough to finish out the song, eyes locked on Kurt's as they just flat out grinned at each other. At the end, everyone applauded furiously, but Dave hardly took notice as he sat on the stool and continued to look up at Kurt with his heart pounding loudly in his chest in a combination of nervousness and excitement.

As the applause died down, Mercedes spoke up loudly. "If I don't get an invitation to the wedding, I'm going to kill you both."

Everyone fell into laughter at that, and Kurt shook his head in amusement and waved Dave back up to his seat. "Thank you," he murmured beneath their friends' laughter and good-natured teasing. "I'd never had anyone sing a love song to me before." He paused a moment and asked, "Did you mean all of that?"

Dave leaned in and said in an equally soft voice, "Every word. Look – I have absolutely no idea what we are to each other, but I know what I'd like us to be. And Kurt, no matter what, I'm happy with whatever we are."

Kurt laughed quietly. "You know that gray area Mercedes accused us of occupying the week they set us up on that date?" Dave nodded slightly. "I'm pretty sure we're floating around somewhere in there."

"Gray area, huh?" Dave said. "I'm good with that."

"Me too," Kurt said, and he reached over to Dave's lap to take his hand, sliding his fingers between Dave's and pressing their palms together. Dave shifted their hands over closer to Kurt, and they dangled in the space between their seats, clasped together.

Quinn looked over her shoulder at them and smiled happily, mercifully not saying anything to draw any attention to them. Kurt held a finger to his lips and smiled back at her, and Quinn winked and turned around to face the front of the room again. Santana bumped her shoulder against Dave's and said, not quite whispering, "Way to go, big guy. That's what I was talking about."

"Great job, Dave," Mr. Schuester said, and Dave sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he didn't say anything more about his song choice. "Santana, come on down and sing for us."

Santana stood and walked down to the front. "That's a tough act to follow," she said dryly, making Rachel and Tina giggle. "But I think I can manage. I know you like Melissa Etheridge, Brit, but I don't, so I picked another song that I think you'll like. I don't think it's supposed to be a love song, since the singer's straight, but whatever. It makes me think of you." She pointed to the musicians and mimed firing a gun. "Hit it."

After the opening bars had played, she began singing a surprisingly sweet rendition of KT Tunstall's 'Suddenly I See.' But Dave's attention was almost entirely elsewhere, lost to the gap between his seat and Kurt's, and the warmth of Kurt's hand in his. He thought briefly of the saved message on his cell phone that was waiting to be sent. No, it still wasn't the right time. But that 'maybe' of three months ago seemed far closer to 'yes' than he'd ever thought possible. It wasn't the right time – but maybe, almost certainly, it would be someday.

* * *

To hear the fantastically sweet song "Must Have Done Something Right" by Relient K, add **watch?v=ejkkfntmUTU** to the end of the YouTube home address.

I always appreciate feedback from you!


	17. Spin the Wine Cooler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was interesting what a single offhand remark could do.

It was interesting what a single offhand remark could do.

On Wednesday, Santana mentioned that they'd been in Glee together for over a year and a half and they hadn't had a party yet. Mercedes, in turn, mentioned that her parents would be in Cincinnati at some sort of medical conference for the weekend. Then Puck said he'd been working on perfecting his cupcake recipe, and Brittany said she didn't think anyone even remembered there were wine coolers in her parents' garage, and for some reason it all led to Dave standing on Mercedes' front porch with Kurt and Finn at seven on Saturday evening, wondering what he was letting himself in for by going to a party with so many people who were bound and determined to see him and Kurt in a relationship.

"Think they have something up their sleeves this time?" Dave asked Kurt.

Kurt flicked a glance up at Finn. "If they do, at least it doesn't involve setting us up on a date and ditching us," he said. He ignored Finn's offended "Hey!" and rapped his knuckles on the door.

It was answered by a young black man a couple of inches shorter than Kurt, stocky and round-faced with a friendly smile. "Hey, Kurt," he said, opening the door wider to let them in.

"Hello, Julian," Kurt said, stepping over the threshold. Dave and Finn followed after him. "How's UNOH treating you this semester?"

"Pretty well," Julian said. "I wrapped up my last general education class last semester, so now it's all business and marketing." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder down the hall. "The only kids who haven't arrived yet are Quinn and her boyfriend. Everyone's in the den." They made to walk off, and Julian cleared his throat. "Keys first," he said. "That blonde girl waltzed in here with a big box of wine coolers under each arm, and I know the kid with the Mohawk didn't bring cupcakes because he likes baking. So there are two rules here. If you're going to drive home, you don't drink or get stoned. And if you get trashed, I can and will call your parents. Stick with that, and I'm just going to pretend I'm not here and I never saw a thing."

Kurt surrendered his keys willingly. "That sounds very fair," he said. "I wasn't planning on drinking, anyway."

"I trust you," Julian said, "But I'd rather not have my little sister's best friend wrap his car around a tree because I wasn't looking after all of you." He looked at Dave and Finn. "And you two rode with Kurt?" They nodded, and he smiled. "Good. Don't let me keep you – I'm sure everyone's dying to see you."

When they got to the den they were greeted with shouts of excitement, and Mercedes jumped up to pull Kurt by the hand into the room. "You're here!"

"I'd noticed," he said, but he went without protest as she led him over to the couch and pushed him into it before collapsing into the seat right beside him. She gave him a smooch on the cheek and whispered in his ear. He laughed. "Really?"

"Yup," she said, threading her arm through his and leaning against his shoulder.

Kurt looked around the room with a speculative look in his eye, and when his eyes lit on Finn, a devilish smile overtook his face. "Finn," he called out to where his stepbrother was standing by Dave. "Come here." Finn left Dave's side and walked over casually.

"Yeah?" he asked when he was standing in front of the couch.

Kurt crooked a finger at him. "Bend over." Finn did as he was told with a curious look on his face. Kurt gripped the sides of his head with both hands and tugged him down further to give him a kiss on the forehead.

Finn jerked back, surprised. "What was that for?" he asked, swiping his forehead with his palm.

"Pass it on," Kurt said, and Finn laughed.

"Who started it?"

"I did," Puck called out from where he was lounging on the floor against the loveseat, a stoned looking Brittany sitting above him petting his Mohawk. Santana was sitting sideways with Brittany between her legs, absentmindedly running her fingers through her girlfriend's hair.

Finn went over to the large tray of cupcakes on the coffee table and picked one up. "Why am I not surprised?"

Tina danced clumsily over to Dave and gave him a hug. "Hey," she said happily, not letting go. "It is _so good_ to see you. You know? You're so _nice_. It's weird. You're like this big, cuddly _nice_ person, and I _like_ you so _much_. You know? And I never thought that about you before, but it's _so true_!" She looked up at him earnestly. "I would _totally_ take a slushy for you. Not like anyone would actually slushy you. Because you're so _nice_. But it's the thought that counts, right?"

Mike came up quickly and gently pried his girlfriend's arms away from around Dave's ribs. "She's a lightweight," he said in explanation. "I've already cut her off for the night."

"And a really happy drunk," Dave said. "It's okay." It was actually kind of sweet, not that he'd ever say so. There was that one saying, "in vino veritas." And if a happy drunk Tina said all of that to him, then that probably meant she thought so when she was sober, too.

"You like me too, right?" she asked, leaning back into Mike as he held her from behind.

"Tina," Dave said, "I like you a lot." She made a funny high pitched happy sound and bounced up and down on her toes.

"Even though we kick your ass at bowling every time we go?" Mike asked humorously.

"We're narrowing your lead with every game," Dave said. "I bet Kurt and I will beat you at least once by the end of the year."

"You sure you want to make another bet like that?" Mike asked. "The last one didn't go so well."

Dave grinned. "I have a good feeling about this."

"That's a big bet," Mike said. "We're going to have to take some time to figure out suitably big stakes."

"We'll think of something," Dave said.

Finn wandered over with Rachel in tow, a few crumbs of his already eaten cupcake still lingering in the corners of his mouth. "Hello, all," he said. "Puck said he used way more weed in his pot butter this time. So I figure I should probably sit down in maybe an hour." He looked over at Brittany. "I think Brittany probably taste tested them for him."

"Considering how high she already is, that's probably a safe assumption," Rachel said.

Finn reached around Rachel to grab Tina's hand, and he planted a kiss on the back. "Pass it on," he said, and he grabbed Rachel around the waist and gave her a much more thorough kiss on the lips. "You get real kisses," he told her.

"I like real kisses," she said, "Especially from you." She dragged him away to sit on the floor in front of the TV, which was playing 'The Wizard of Oz' at a low volume.

"Give me your face," Tina said to Dave, holding out her hands. He shot Mike a look to make sure he was fine with it, and Mike chuckled.

"You're not exactly competition," he said. "Make my girlfriend happy."

Dave bent over obligingly, and Tina gave him a peck on the nose. "So nice," she said again. She looked up at Mike. "We can keep him, right?"

"I dunno, babe," Mike said. He grinned at Dave. "Is he housebroken?"

"Oh, screw you, Chang," Dave said amiably.

"I'm flattered, but you're not my type," Mike said. Tina giggled.

A loud cry went up from everyone in the room, and Dave turned around to see Quinn and Sam walk in the door. "What a welcome," Quinn said. "A bit loud, but it's very nice to feel so appreciated."

"They were just as noisy when we arrived," Dave said. On a whim, he leaned over and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek. "Pass it on."

"That's an even better welcome," she said. She turned to Sam and twined her arms around his neck. "Hey there, handsome."

"Hello, beautiful," he said back. "Gonna give me a kiss?"

"I'm thinking about it," she said flirtatiously. "Why, do you want one?"

"Oh, I really do," he said, and she went on tiptoe to kiss him softly. "Pass it on," she whispered in his ear.

"Actually, I think everyone's already been kissed now," Mike said.

"Oh good," Sam said. He smiled down at Quinn. "I get to hold on to your kiss."

"God, could you possibly be more sappy?" Artie joked.

"Yes," Santana, Kurt, and Quinn all said at the same time.

"Finn and Rachel," Quinn said, pointing to the pair where they were cuddling in front of the TV.

"Mercedes and Anthony," Kurt said, and Mercedes laughed and laid her head on his shoulder.

Santana stopped running her fingers through Brittany's hair for a moment and looked up, smirking. "Kurt and Dave."

"Mm, I don't think so," Rachel said. "Right now they're just frustrating."

"Let me put it this way," Santana said. "If they were any sappier, people would be tapping them for syrup."

"Lay off," Kurt said, no real heat behind his words. "We're doing just fine without outside help."

"That's a matter of opinion," Rachel said. "And your opinion is wrong."

"Boring," Puck said. "It'll happen sooner or later. Whatever." He pointed in Dave's general direction. "You," he said. "Quinn 'n Sam. Sam 'n Quinn. Get outta the doorway and come over here."

They looked at each other and shrugged, walking over to Puck to sit on the floor in front of the loveseat with them. Then Mike and Tina moved off to share a large armchair, so Dave, now standing awkwardly by himself, went over to sit in front of the TV a ways down from Finn and Rachel, which put him with Kurt's legs right at his back. Kurt drew his legs up so that his feet were both dangling off the edge of the sofa by Dave's right arm. He leaned back further, attempting to focus on the movie but too acutely aware of Kurt's immediate presence to devote all of his attention to the Cowardly Lion's first song.

Kurt leaned forward and said, "I've been attempting to match the characters to our friends. Do you want to join in?"

"Sure." He relaxed into the cushions. "Who do you have so far?"

"The Scarecrow and Dorothy," Kurt said. "Brittany is Dorothy, wandering through life with wide-eyed innocence. Things often don't make sense to her, but her lack of understanding doesn't frustrate her. She remains sweet-natured and kind."

"Makes sense," Dave said. "So who's the Scarecrow?"

"Finn," Kurt said. "He assumes he's an idiot, and he can be dense about some things, but he has a pretty good head on his shoulders, and is a natural leader. He may not understand schoolwork very well, but he has interpersonal relationships and emotions figured out better than most teenage guys."

Finn left off whispering in Rachel's ear to say, "I'd be offended by the whole 'dense' thing, but you followed it up with a lot of compliments, so thanks."

"Who am I?" Rachel asked.

Kurt set a hand on Dave's shoulder for support as he leaned further out from the couch to address her. _Hey, that's your hand on my shoulder._ "Glinda, I think," he said. "You're a romantic who believes wholeheartedly in happy endings, and you have a habit of indulging in well-intentioned meddling in your friends' lives." _And oh, hey, that's your breath right by my ear when you talk. Keep leaning on me. Please._

Rachel beamed. "You're so good at this!" she exclaimed. "Do Dave next." _I need to stop spending so much time around people who make me read sexual references into everything they say about me and Kurt._

Kurt huffed a laugh in Dave's ear. "That one's easy," he said, and he slid further forward so that it was his forearm braced on Dave's shoulder, twisting around to meet Dave's eyes, face so close that it almost filled Dave's entire frame of vision. "But I'll tell you later," he said to Dave.

"Why can't we hear it?" Rachel asked.

"Maybe I like Dave better," Kurt said. He pulled his head back so that Dave could see the rest of the room again, but his arm remained in place, fingers a mere inch from brushing against Dave's sternum.

"That's not hard to believe," Mercedes said. Rachel pouted playfully. "And Rachel's wrong about you. If you two are this cute now and you aren't dating yet, you're going to reach unbearable levels of schmoopy romance by the time you are."

"None of your business," Kurt sing-songed, and Dave laughed and tipped his head back to rest it against Kurt's collarbone. "Can we talk about something else? The weather? How weird it is to watch 'The Wizard of Oz' while playing that Pink Floyd album? Regionals?"

"Not Regionals," Finn groaned, but Rachel perked up immediately.

"I still think we should do original songs," she said.

"No," Mercedes said. "Too much effort."

"Putting in a greater amount of work would help us win," Rachel insisted.

"Rachel," Kurt said, "We lack the necessary pathos to write songs with emotional depth. Those of us in relationships are happy and drama-free, instances of bullying on campus have dropped significantly, the only club larger than the GSA is the Booster Club, and we won the championship game less than a month ago. It boggles the mind, but we're _happy_. The only way things could possibly get better is if we win at Regionals and go to Nationals."

"I know," she said. "It's really putting a crimp in my plan to be a tortured artist, as you might imagine. How am I going to be taken seriously in dramatic roles if I never suffered growing up?"

"Just enjoy it," Finn said. "We're having an awesome year. Can't we just roll with it?"

"It goes against every fiber of my being," Rachel said, but she snuggled back into Finn's arms and smiled. "However, if you insist, I'll 'roll with it.'"

"Good girl," Kurt said. She made a face at him, and he laughed and looked around the room. "Oh, hello," he said, looking over toward the loveseat. "That's interesting."

Dave followed his line of sight. At first all he saw were Santana and Brittany wrapped around each other on the two-seater couch, cuddling and giggling. Then he dropped his gaze about two feet and saw what Kurt was talking about. A now thoroughly stoned Puck was lying across both Quinn and Sam's laps with his head pillowed on Quinn's thighs. She'd apparently taken over Brittany's task of petting Puck's Mohawk, and Sam was leaning against her with his chin hooked over her shoulder, periodically raising a wine cooler bottle to his mouth to take a drink. "Huh. Guess he gets cuddly when he's high."

"Exploring the possibility of latent bisexuality, are we, Puck?" Kurt asked loudly.

Puck snickered. "'M not bi," he said. "The word you're looking for is, um, hetero-flexible."

Artie broke off a game of patty-cake with an enthralled Tina to look over and say, "And you define this how?"

"It's like this," Puck said. "I'm straight, but sometimes –" he reached up, grabbed Sam by the back of the neck, and pulled him down into an absolutely filthy kiss – "shit just happens." He settled back into Quinn's lap with a big, shit-eating grin. _Holy fucking shit. That didn't just happen._

"I think I just hallucinated," Kurt said faintly.

"Me too," Mercedes said, sounding more intrigued than shocked. "I want to see that again."

"I don't," Finn said.

"Dude!" Sam sputtered, scrubbing his mouth with his hand. "Warn a guy next time!"

"If Puck values his genitals, there won't be a next time," Quinn said, but she laughed and kissed Sam firmly. "All better," she said. She tugged lightly on a tuft of Puck's short hair. "And you, no more kissing my boyfriend."

"Yes ma'am," Puck said, turning his head to nuzzle her knee.

"It's like you said," Dave told Kurt. "Glee makes people crazy."

"Or only crazy people join Glee," Kurt added. "Exactly."

"No argument here," Finn said. "If it's not one it's definitely the other."

Sam swished a large mouthful of his wine cooler around in his mouth. After he swallowed, he said, "Let's agree that this party is like Vegas. What happens here stays here."

Santana ruffled his hair. "Don't worry, blondie," she said patronizingly. "I don't think Jacob would actually believe any of us if we told him what just happened."

"He'd still blog about it," Sam said. "Next thing you know, everyone at school will think I'm either cheating on you with Puck of all people, or that we have some kind of weird threesome going on."

"You only wish you could get a stud like me," Puck said.

"You were singlehandedly responsible for at least a quarter of the visits that girls in school made to Planned Parenthood last year for contraceptives and STD testing," Quinn said, and although her words were sharp her voice was calm. "Myself included."

Sam nodded. "You're a walking billboard for regular STD screenings, dude," he said.

"It's not right," Puck said, "For such mean things to come out of such a pretty mouth."

"I feel sexually harassed," Sam said.

"That's because I'm sexually harassing you," Puck said. He looked up at Quinn. "Did you forgive me? I shouldn't have done it. 'M sorry."

"Yes," Quinn said, resuming her petting of Puck's Mohawk. "I forgive you for being a total dick half the time, and for getting me pregnant last year."

"Cool," Puck said. He gave her a lazy smile. "We should do something fun. What's fun, Santana?"

"Middle school party games," Santana said. "Silly, but very fun."

"Truth or Dare?" Mike asked.

"No," Santana said. She swept a speculative glance around the room and smirked as she took in Dave and Kurt. "Spin the Bottle."

"You don't think there's been enough kissing going on?" Artie asked. "I mean, if one of us has mono we're all totally screwed. And then Jacob will really have something to blog about."

"By now it's probably too late to worry about that," Mercedes said. "Come on. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I left it at home," Artie said, but he drained the last few mouthfuls of his wine cooler and held out the bottle. "Someone roll up the rug," he said. "This thing isn't gonna spin on a soft surface."

"Hey, fun," Puck said. He grabbed a fistful of the rug and tugged it toward him. "I like fun."

Sam sighed and pulled at the rug as well. "Vegas," he said again. "Vegas."

Soon, a space on the wood floor was cleared, and they were all sitting in a tight circle around Artie's bottle. Through someone's machinations – Dave suspected Santana and Mercedes – He and Kurt were sitting directly across the circle from each other.

"Who wants to go first?" Finn asked.

"Me," Santana said as she fiddled with a bottle cap. She leaned out and grasped the bottle, giving it a quick snap of her wrist. It spun around in a tight circle for several rotations before it slowly petered out and landed on Mike. She gave him a lascivious smile, and he laughed.

"Bring it on, hot stuff," he said, arm firmly around Tina's shoulders. Santana slunk across the circle on hands and knees with a predatory grace, and when she reached him she put a hand on the back of his head and kissed him deeply.

"You're good," she said when she broke it off. She winked at Tina. "Brit's better."

"That's good," Tina said, giggling, "Because you can't have him."

"He's all yours," Santana said, and she made her way back across the circle to take Brittany's hand. She began fiddling with the bottle cap again.

Mike reached over and gave the bottle a hard spin, and it came to land on Rachel. "I'll be right back," he told Tina, removing his arm. She leaned against Mercedes with a contented smile and watched as her boyfriend crossed the circle to give Rachel a quick peck on the lips.

"Cop out," Puck said.

"It's still a kiss," Mike said, going back to retake his spot and pull Tina against him again.

"My turn, then," Rachel said. She walked on her knees into the circle and spun the bottle. It gave a few wobbly rotations, and as its momentum petered out she looked over to see who it was pointing to. "No," she said immediately, and Quinn shook her head in denial, a look of dread on her face.

"Yes," Artie countered gleefully. "Consider it therapeutic."

"No no no no no," Rachel said.

Finn gave her a light push on the back. "Better to get it over with than to keep freaking out about it," he said, and with a grimace of extreme distaste, Rachel crawled around Puck and Artie to kneel before Quinn. Screwing her eyes shut, she gave Quinn a lightning-fast kiss and scrambled back to her place next to Finn.

"That was so not hot," Brittany said.

"Least sexy girl on girl kiss I've ever seen," Santana agreed.

"Can we stop discussing my recent traumatic experience and move on?" Quinn asked plaintively.

"If you insist," Puck said, and Quinn sagged in relief and spun the bottle quickly. It came to a stop on Kurt, and she smiled.

"And now I get to be the second girl to kiss you," she teased gently.

"Clearly I need to start kissing boys," Kurt said.

"I can think of one boy you ought to be kissing," Mercedes said as Quinn crossed over to Kurt.

"Again, lay off," he said tolerantly, and went up on his knees to meet Quinn.

She brushed a soft kiss across his lips and pulled back slightly to say, "You're sweet. But if you think you can take on all of us, you're completely insane."

"I have no such illusions," Kurt said, "But I will fight on nonetheless." Quinn moved back to her spot between Artie and Sam, and Kurt reached out to snag the bottle. He gave it a good spin, and as it whirled around, a thought hit Dave so quickly and so hard that it rocked him back in his seat.

 _Don't land on me. This can't be the kiss that comes after the one I sprang on him in the locker room. One kiss Kurt didn't want was bad enough, but two? I can't. I won't._

Then, as it went into another rotation, Santana gave the bottle cap she'd been toying with a hard flick, and it hit the neck of the bottle with uncanny accuracy, forcing it to land on Dave. _Damn it. No. God, not like this._ He looked across at Kurt and said, "You don't have to."

"I know I don't," Kurt said, looking somewhat bemused.

"Yes you do," Santana said. Dave ignored her.

"Is this okay with you?"

Kurt searched his face, and understanding seemed to dawn. "You're thinking about –"

"Yeah," Dave said. "Mostly I try not to."

"Stop beating yourself up," Kurt said.

"There's a whole other layer to this conversation that we're all missing, isn't there?" Mercedes asked.

"Yes," Kurt said, "And I'm not going to explain it to you." He crawled across the circle to Dave and knelt up.

"I don't want you to if you don't want to," Dave said. "It shouldn't have even –"

"If it hadn't," Kurt said, "Do you think we'd be where we are now?" He didn't wait for Dave's answer, just put a gentle hand on his cheek and leaned in to give him a sweet, warm kiss, barely more than a press of his lips against Dave's. His heartbeat throbbed in his ears, and in the back of his mind he counted the beats, eyes closed and lips moving softly against Kurt's. _One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight._

Kurt pulled away slowly and touched his forehead to Dave's. "You and I are fine, alright? We're fine."

"Okay," Dave said quietly. _I love you._

Kurt stood and offered his hand to Dave. "Have fun playing without us," he said to their friends. "We're going to go sit on the porch and talk about how much we hate you all." He softened his words with a smile, but it was clear he fully intended to leave the party temporarily.

No one protested as Dave took Kurt's hand and levered himself up to his feet. They all seemed unusually subdued, as if they knew they'd witnessed something important but weren't sure what it was, or if they'd even had the right to see it. Kurt kept hold of Dave's hand as they walked out of the den, down the hall past the living room, and out the front door. He pulled Dave over to the porch swing by the door, and they both collapsed back into it.

"That wasn't fair of them," Kurt said.

Dave shook his head. "It wasn't like they knew. But yeah. It wasn't."

Kurt tightened his grip on Dave's hand. "When I told you I forgave you, I meant that I forgave you for everything," he said.

"I know," Dave said. "It's just hard to believe sometimes. That I could be that lucky."

"It's not luck," Kurt said. "I like you. I care about you. You mean a lot to me. How could I not forgive you?"

"You forgave me before you liked me," Dave said.

"Maybe that's good luck on my part," Kurt said. He leaned into Dave, laying his head on his shoulder. "If I hadn't, I'd have missed out on all of this."

Tension seeped from Dave's body. "Maybe we're both lucky."

"Let's go with that one," Kurt said.

"I can do that," Dave said. He tilted his head so that it rested against Kurt's. "So which 'Wizard of Oz' character am I?"

Kurt let out the same soft laugh he had when Rachel had asked that question. "You're the Cowardly Lion," he said. "At first, blustering and bullying to hide how scared you were. And then you left the forest and traveled all over Oz, becoming braver, and because of it, kinder as well. And although you're so much more courageous than you were in your forest, you still don't believe sometimes that you're even half as brave as you really are."

"Ever think about going into psychology?" Dave asked, only half-joking. "You're good at this."

"I couldn't," Kurt said. "Figuring people out is just fun. It's not my passion. I'd be bored."

"That'd be terrible," Dave said.

"Mm-hmm," Kurt agreed. Silence fell between them for a minute, and then Kurt spoke up. "I liked it. Kissing you."

Dave squeezed Kurt's hand. "Me too."

"I'd like to do it again sometime," he said. "Not when our friends are manipulating us into it, but just because I'd want to."

"I'd – I'd really like that," Dave said.

He couldn't see it, but there was a smile in Kurt's voice. "If you want to go back in, you can, but I'm going to stay out here for a while. I'm still a bit peeved with them."

"I'd rather stay out here," Dave said. _With you._

Kurt moved a bit closer. "Good," he said, and once again a comfortable silence fell, disturbed only by the sound of the porch swing creaking as it moved back and forth ever so slightly.

 _If I'm the Cowardly Lion, then you're the Tin Man. You have this superior, nothing-bothers-me attitude that you use like a weapon against everyone who gives you crap. But underneath that, you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. And it's one of the many, many reasons why I love you._

* * *

Feedback is always appreciated!


	18. Our Weird, Screwed Up Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the Monday after the party, Mr. Schuester sat them down after school and stood by the white board at the front of the choir room. "Regionals are in two weeks, guys," he said. "We need to get our set list figured out today." He uncapped a black pen and wrote at the top of the board in all caps, "ANTHEMS". "Here's this year's theme," he told them. "We have room to put our own spin on it, of course. We don't have to pull anthems off an internet list of 'One Hundred Greatest Rock Anthems' or something like that. This is where you come in. What sort of theme do you think we should work with? Take into account our emotions, recent events in our lives, school, anything."

On the Monday after the party, Mr. Schuester sat them down after school and stood by the white board at the front of the choir room. "Regionals are in two weeks, guys," he said. "We need to get our set list figured out today." He uncapped a black pen and wrote at the top of the board in all caps, "ANTHEMS". "Here's this year's theme," he told them. "We have room to put our own spin on it, of course. We don't have to pull anthems off an internet list of 'One Hundred Greatest Rock Anthems' or something like that. This is where you come in. What sort of theme do you think we should work with? Take into account our emotions, recent events in our lives, school, anything."

Rachel raised her hand. "Acceptance," she said, and Mr. Schuester wrote it down.

"Great," he said. "What else?"

"Excitement," Mercedes said.

Mr. Schuester jotted down 'excitement' and looked around. "Tina?"

"Change," she said.

"Revolution," Puck added.

"Alright," Mr. Schuester said, writing down their suggestions as well. "Acceptance, excitement, change, and revolution. This is great, guys. Now, what songs can you think of that fit these words?" He opened a fresh pack of dry-erase markers and tossed them to the group. "If you come up with something, come down and write it on the board."

Puck shot out of his seat and went to scrawl 'Windowsill' across the board. He tossed the pen into Finn's outstretched hands, and Finn got up and wrote 'The Underdog.' Artie wheeled himself over and wrote 'What's So Funny 'Bout Peace, Love and Understanding,' and passed off his pen to Tina, who wrote 'Reflecting Light.' Mike stood and walked to the board to write 'In This City.' Mercedes added 'Sing (MCR),' and at Dave's gesture, she threw him the pen so he could write 'I Shall Overcome.'

"Anyone else?" Mr. Schuester asked, and when no one stood to add anything further, he said, "Okay then. Sam, will you bring your laptop down here so we can look these songs up to hear what they sound like?"

"Sure thing," Sam said, and he hopped down from the lowest riser to the floor with his laptop under his arm. After a minute, he looked up at Puck. "I'm gonna need a band name."

"Arcade Fire," Puck said. At Santana's disbelieving look, he said defensively, "What? It's a badass song. It's about fighting the Man."

Sam cued it up on the internet radio site, and about half of the way through the song Mr. Schuester shook his head. "No, we can't do it. There's revolution, and then there's singing about wanting to leave the country. We can take risks with music, but not that big a risk. Great idea, though, Puck." He looked over the song titles and said, "Try 'The Underdog' next."

"Spoon," Finn said. "It's this awesome band from Texas that Zach turned me on to."

Sam typed it into the radio site, and this time Mr. Schuester let it play all the way through. "It doesn't have a real 'anthem' vibe to it," he said, "But it definitely fits with the message. We'll keep it as a possibility. Next up, 'In This City.'"

"Iglu and Hartly," Mike said. "I like to keep an ear open for good hip hop. It's a good song."

Mr. Schuester nodded, and as it played he tapped his fingers against the top of the piano in time with the beat. "I like it," he said when it stopped. "Up-tempo, definitely on the message. Has good singing and rapping parts, too – we can shake up the leads a bit for this one. This is definitely going on the list of possibilities."

They ran through the rest quickly, setting aside Dave's suggestion as a little too angry, and Artie's as not fitting in well with the other songs. Tina's got decent reviews despite being less energetic than the others, and Mercedes' suggestion was unanimously agreed upon as being one of their songs for Regionals.

"Let's narrow it down," Mr. Schuester said. "We have 'Sing.' Now we need to choose our other two songs from our three 'maybes.' All in favor of 'The Underdog'?"

Roughly three quarters of the group raised their hands, and Mr. Schuester put a check mark beside the song. "'Reflecting Light'?" About two thirds of the hands went up this time. "'In This City'?" Nearly every hand was raised, and Mr. Schuester put a check beside Mike's suggestion. "Fantastic, guys. Let's figure out who gets what solos, and then get to work."

"Artie should get one of the solos for 'In This City,' Mercedes said. "He's great at rapping."

"So's Mike," Artie said. "If he doesn't have to actually sing, he's really good at it." Mike laughed and bumped Artie's outstretched fist.

"That's one song taken care of," Mr. Schuester said. "How about 'Sing'?"

"Finn," Rachel suggested, but Finn shook his head.

"My voice isn't strong enough for that. Give it to Puck."

"Nah," Puck said. "Let's shake it up and give it to a girl. Santana, you want it?"

"Hell yeah," she said. "I'll take it."

"Great," Mr. Schuester said. "Now for 'The Underdog.'"

"This one definitely works for Finn's voice," Kurt said. "Plus it was his suggestion."

"Alright," Mr. Schuester said exuberantly. "Let's get cracking!"

TEAOMAL

The ecstatic ruckus backstage after the competition was less sweaty and had a lot less bulky padding than the victory celebration in the locker room after the football team had won the championship game, but it was as just as joyous and chaotic as the first.

"We won! We won we won we won!" Rachel shrieked, jumping up and down with the trophy held high above her head.

"We're going to NATIONALS, bitches!" Puck shouted. He grabbed Brittany around the waist and swung her around as she laughed and laughed.

"Oh my god," Quinn said, holding on to Mercedes' shoulder. "Oh my god. Oh. My god."

"Holy shit!" Finn yelled, punching Dave in the arm excitedly. "We're going to New York!"

Dave found himself blindsided as Santana jumped on his back much like Rashad had done. "We did it!" she yelled. "New York City, here we come!" Tina and Kurt swarmed Dave and held on tight, and Dave did his best to hug them back without dropping Santana.

"Broadway!" Kurt exclaimed.

"MoMA!" Tina said giddily.

"Times Square!" Santana shouted in Dave's ear.

 _Fuck yes!_ "The Empire State Building!" he added.

"Central Park," a new voice said, and the four of them turned to see who'd spoken. _Oh. It's you. Awesome._

"Blaine," Kurt said, sounding pleased and surprised. "It's nice to see you. You guys did a great job."

"You were better," he said. He looked up at Dave and stuck out his hand. "I think we ought to be introduced properly this time. I'm Blaine."

Tina and Kurt let go so that Dave could shake his hand, although Kurt didn't move very far. "Dave," he said.

"Dave," Blaine repeated. "I must admit, you're just about the last person I expected to see here."

"Things change," Dave said.

"Yes they do," Blaine said. "I understand you came out a while back. I'm sorry it didn't work out so well for you."

"Thank you," Dave said. "It worked out well enough, though."

Blaine looked between Kurt and Dave, taking in the nearly nonexistent space between them. "And you two are…." He trailed off delicately.

"Not quite," Kurt said. "But we're getting there."

"We're taking our time," Dave said.

"Is that a good idea? I mean, it's nice to see how well things are going for you, Dave," Blaine said. "But is this really healthy? I figured that after all that happened between you, getting together would be a disaster – especially after that kiss." _I don't like you._

"Kiss?" Finn asked, looking between Dave and Blaine curiously. "You mean the one at the party?"

"No," Blaine said slowly. "I mean the one in the locker room."

Kurt took a step forward, drawing Blaine's attention to himself. "Blaine, don't," he said. "Please."

"You can't just sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened," Blaine said. "I'm glad he's out and that he's doing better, but Kurt, he bullied you because he was closeted, and then he kissed you after you chased after him. That's really not a good foundation for a relationship." _No, really. I don't like you at all._

"No, it's not," Dave said, annoyed. "That's why we're not in one yet. And for fuck's sake, what the hell kind of advice was that, telling Kurt to confront me? What did you think the worst case scenario was gonna be? That I'd apologize and back off? Fuck no. If I'd been some other asshole who _didn't_ have a goddamn crush on him, I'd have probably beaten the crap out of him."

"Wait, you kissed Kurt?" Finn said incredulously. "This is what that whole shitty-advice-slash-thing-that-happened-in-the-locker-room-that-you-don't-talk-about is about? That's why you guys acted like that at the party?"

"Yes," Kurt snapped. "This is what it's about. It's still none of your business."

"No," Finn said. "It is my business. It's all of our business," he said, gesturing at their friends. "He _kissed_ you? When he was still giving you hell at school? I have a hard time believing you wanted that."

"He didn't," Dave said. "It was fucked up, and I never should've done it, but I did, and it's not like I can take it back." _I wish I could. All the time._

"Granted, you were under a lot of internal stress," Blaine said. "But that doesn't make what you have going on with Kurt any better."

"God, Blaine, stop trying to help," Kurt said. "Really."

"No, keep helping," Finn said. "He _kissed_ you? Against your will? Isn't that, like, sexual assault or something?" He looked at Dave as if he were a complete stranger. "I like you, dude, but seriously, what the hell?"

"Don't try to play 'big brother,' Finn. You don't get a say in this," Kurt said acidly. "And do the words 'impending emotional breakdown' mean anything to you? I'm at least partially responsible for what happened."

"No you're not," Dave immediately contradicted. "That's all on me."

"I pushed, and pushed, and kept pushing until you did," Kurt said. "I was trying to provoke you into saying or doing something."

"You're not the one who did it," Dave said. "You can't take any of the blame."

"God _damn_ it, will you stop being so self-flagellating for once?" Kurt cried. "It's done with. I forgave you. We moved on."

"How could you move on?" Finn asked angrily. "Actually, how could you forgive that, period?"

"How could I not?" Kurt shot back. "Look at all the rest of the things that we've all forgiven each other for."

"He's right," Santana said unexpectedly. She slid off Dave's back, looked around the room and began pointing. "Rachel sent Sunshine to a crack house," she said. "Forgiven."

Kurt pointed at Finn and Puck. "You tossed me into a dumpster every day for over a year. And you threw pee balloons at me. Forgiven."

Santana turned her finger on Tina. "You faked a disability so your teachers wouldn't call on you, and it just about crushed Artie when he found out. Forgiven."

"You spent the entire time that my father was in a coma trying to convert me instead of asking what you could do to help me," Kurt said to Quinn, Mercedes and Rachel. "Forgiven."

"Homophobic jokes about Kurt to his face," Santana said, pointing at Artie and Puck, and then, reluctantly, at herself. "Forgiven."

Kurt pointed to Puck. "You got Quinn pregnant. Forgiven."

"You cheated on Finn with Puck," Santana added, pointing to Quinn. "Forgiven."

"I set our parents up because I had a crush on you," Kurt said to Finn. "Forgiven."

"We tried to sabotage Glee for Coach Sylvester more than a few times," Santana said, pointing to herself, then to Brittany and Quinn. "Forgiven."

"I conspired with Quinn to give Rachel the makeover from hell," Kurt said. "Forgiven."

"I almost lost Brittany by telling her she was just a warm body to me," Santana said. "Forgiven."

Kurt looked past their friends to point to Mr. Schuester, who was standing on the edge of the group and watching their conversation with interest. "You used to walk past me every day in the morning and never even noticed how terrified I was of the jocks who were about to toss me into the dumpster," he said flatly. "And then you invited them to be a part of the only group I felt safe in. Forgiven."

"We work as a group because no matter what we do to each other, we get over it," Santana said. "And if we can forgive even half of the crap that's gone on between all of us, then you don't have a leg to stand on when you ask Kurt how he can forgive Dave for anything." She looked at Blaine and shook her head. "You might mean well, prep boy, but you don't know us. You don't get us. And you damn well don't get to make judgment calls about us."

"I do think that you're honestly trying to help," Kurt said to Blaine. "But what you consider unhealthy is just another facet of our weird, screwed up family. We're always there for each other, no matter what. Strange as it is, this is our normal. We've all been stupid, and manipulative, and cruel to each other, and we always get past it. So again, how could I not forgive Dave?"

"I don't understand it," Blaine said, looking more than a little bowled over. "But I can see that your approach to this sort of thing works for you." He looked up at Dave and smiled ruefully. "I really stuck my foot in it, didn't I? I'm sorry."

Dave shook his head. "Know what? Forget it. I don't like you, but I know you care about Kurt, and that's really all that matters to me."

"I'm not all that fond of you either, but you care about Kurt, too, probably more than I do, so I'm going to stop interfering where I shouldn't," Blaine said. _I definitely care about him more than you do. But if we're having some kind of stupid "who's the better man" pissing contest, then please go back to your prep school buddies before I lose._

"It was nice to see you, Blaine," Kurt said. "I'll call you sometime, alright?"

Blaine took the hint. "You too," he said. "Congrats on the win, guys. See you around." He walked back to the Warblers, giving them all an awkward wave over his shoulder as he left.

"Finn," Kurt said. "Please let it go."

"No," Finn said. "I mean, yes. But you and Santana left something out. Most of those things took a while to forgive. And I just heard this five minutes ago. Don't expect me to let it go right now."

"I expect you to trust my judgment," Kurt said. "You may have had minutes, but I've had months."

"I'm with Finn on this one," Mercedes said. She gave Dave a faintly apologetic look. "This throws me for a loop. I don't even know what to think. I don't think I'm even really mad, it's just – that's a hell of a thing to do."

"I don't blame you," Dave said. _I really, really don't. It was stupid and wrong and I fucked up big time and I'm lucky Kurt forgave me for half the crap I did._

Mr. Schuester clapped his hands, and they all turned toward him, startled, having nearly forgotten he was there. "It's time for us to get back in the van, guys," he said. "We need to head back to McKinley." At his words, Dave violently shoved the conversation with Blaine to the back of his mind. He'd deal with it later. He wasn't about to let that overly helpful, polished prep school dick tank his mood, not after they'd won Regionals.

"Let's roll," Santana said. She stepped up between Kurt and Dave and wrapped an arm around their waists. Brittany came around to Kurt's other side to do the same. "You're sitting with Brit and me in the back," she told them. "We're going to listen to music and talk about how much it sucks that we can't watch ninety percent of the awesome gay movies out there in GSA because they're rated R, and if we get bored we're going to get the bag of skittles in my purse and throw them at everyone sitting in front of us."

"You're a doll," Kurt said, giving her a quick kiss on the crown of her head as the four of them began strolling out together.

"No, I'm a total bitch," she corrected him. "I just have a different point of view on things. And I get you," she added, looking up at Dave. "Been there. Less of the bullying, more of the self-hatred, but yeah. Been there."

"It's appreciated anyway," Kurt said.

"So what was that thing about Mr. Schue?" Santana asked Kurt as Dave pushed open the backstage door that exited into the parking lot. She let go of Kurt so that they could go through two at a time, and as Dave walked out with Santana, he cast a glance over his shoulder and saw that Mr. Schuester was right behind them, the rest of their group following after him.

"That thing about Mr. Schue," Kurt repeated slowly. "The thing about Mr. Schue is that I consider him just as responsible for the bullying that I suffered and my resulting misery as I do the people who used to bully me. It happened right under his nose. He saw it with his own eyes. And he never seemed to care enough to check and see if I was alright. No one who bullied me was ever punished for it, not once. Teenagers can be cruel, but he's an educator, and it's his responsibility to help his students."

"That sucks," Santana said with such a perfect balance of nonchalance and mild interest in her voice that Dave knew that she was completely aware of who was walking behind them out to the van. "But he must have helped you at some point, right?"

Kurt sighed. "Four and a half months ago, he saw me get threatened with physical violence, and he came and asked if I was alright. It gave me a bit of hope. Then he gave me a little cup of water and told me he thought it was 'getting to me.' That usually I just ignored the fact that I never went a week without someone bullying me. That instead of calmly taking it, I was being rude, belligerent, and acting out – as if I was somehow in the wrong. And it made me furious. Then I realized that he has no frame of reference. I doubt he's ever been bullied. He has no idea what an unrelenting nightmare it can be. I don't think he was a bully when he was in school, no, but I'm very nearly certain that he was one of those bystanders who saw it happen and never said or did anything to help the person being bullied. So I forgave him, because if I can forgive everything else that's ever been done to me, then I can forgive him for letting me down so badly."

"But you're okay with him now, right?" Dave asked, aiming for the same tone that Santana had taken. She ducked her face against his arm for a split second, and he felt her shoulders shake with a brief, silent laugh. _We are bad, bad people for enjoying this so much. But Kurt would never say this to Mr. Schuester's face._

"I am now," Kurt said. "But if I ever need to go to a teacher for help with something like that again, he wouldn't be my first choice."

"I can see why," Santana said, and when they got to the van, she tapped her foot impatiently. "I hope Mr. Schue gets here with the keys soon." _Scratch that. We're terrible. Worse than terrible._

"I'm right here," Mr. Schuester said, and Kurt whirled around, eyes wide. He flushed red at the sight of their teacher.

"I –"

"Don't apologize," Mr. Schuester said, holding his hand up. He sounded like he was doing his level best to maintain his composure. Dave couldn't tell whether he was struggling with anger or sorrow. _Or guilt. Could be guilt._

Kurt took a deep breath, and as the color began to recede from his face, he said bravely, "Honestly, I wasn't going to."

Mr. Schuester twisted his mouth into what was probably supposed to be a smile, but came off looking more like a pained grimace. "That's perfectly understandable." He reached past them and unlocked the side door. He stopped, and it looked like he was about to say something, but then he shook his head and went around to the driver's side to hit the button for the wheelchair lift.

"In we go," Santana said, jumping in and clambering over the seats to the third row. Brittany let go of Kurt and followed her back, and Dave and Kurt quickly followed suit.

"I can't believe that just happened," Kurt said in a small, stunned voice as he buckled himself in next to Dave.

"That was awesome," Santana said. "Epic unintentional smackdown."

"Did you know he was there?" Kurt asked, looking at Dave and Santana suspiciously.

"Yeah," Dave admitted. Kurt frowned, and he hastily added, "Look, you know how I needed to hear what you said to Finn? He needed to hear that."

"We have one more year and then we're done," Santana said. "But he's still going to be here. And there will be more Kurts and Tinas and Arties and Rachels, and more Pucks and Finns and Daves and Quinns. It might make him stop just standing by and letting shit happen."

"You guys are jerks," Kurt said, and it sounded almost fond.

The rest of the group piled into the van. Tina and Mike took the seats in front of Kurt and Dave, and Rachel and Finn sat beside them in front of Santana and Brittany.

"That was an interesting conversation to eavesdrop on," Mike said, twisting around in his seat to grin at Kurt.

Kurt winced. "Did everyone hear that?"

"Nah, only Mr. Schue and us," Mike said, waving his hand to encompass Tina, Finn, Rachel, and himself. "But you know Glee. Everyone will know it by the time we're back at school."

"Great." Kurt leaned against the window and stared out at the parking lot.

"Relax," Santana said. "It's not like you said anything untrue."

Up at the front row of seats, Mr. Schuester strapped Artie's chair into the safety restraints and slid the door shut. He went back around to the driver's seat and started the van up without any commentary or congratulatory remarks on their win.

"This is going to be a long-ass drive if we're not having any fun," Puck complained. "What happened to the victory celebration?"

"We left it bleeding out on the floor backstage," Quinn said. She took out her iPod and offered him an earbud. "Here. It'll make the time pass faster."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Whatever. So – I want to see 'But I'm a Cheerleader' in GSA. I don't give a crap about Megan, but Graham is hot – and the whole 'True Directions' thing cracks me up."

"Not my thing," Kurt said. "Graham and Megan had fully developed personalities, but all the gay guys were pretty much one note stereotypes."

"So what would you want to watch, then?" Tina asked.

"'Velvet Goldmine,'" Kurt said promptly. "There are very pretty men, and lots of singing."

"You just like the glitter," Santana said.

"I love the glitter," he said.

"I like 'All Over Me,'" Brittany said. "It's sweet."

"It really is," Santana agreed. She poked Dave's shoulder. "How about you? Got one on your wish list?"

"Actually, yeah," Dave said. "There's this one I watched last year called 'Shelter' that I liked. I saw it on YouTube." _In nine installments that sometimes didn't match up right, but it was better than nothing since there was no way I could rent it or get it on Netflix or anything._

"It's not bad," Kurt said. "It's understated, and it's as much about class issues as it is about gay issues."

Santana kicked the seat in front of them. "Hey, straight people. Got an opinion?"

"'Taking Woodstock,'" Mike said, and Tina nodded.

""Boys Don't Cry," Rachel said. "And 'Milk.'"

"We should have a movie marathon one weekend," Kurt said. "At our house, preferably. We have a nice big television."

"Sounds like a plan," Santana said.

"Finn, you want to watch with us?" Kurt asked. Finn shrugged, not turning around. "Well, if you change your mind, you know you'd be welcome," he said.

Santana reached under the seat and brought out her purse. "Skittles time."

"We're skipping the listening to music part?" Dave asked.

"We can multitask," Santana said, and she ripped open her giant bag of skittles. "Here. Let's cause some mayhem."

Dave looked at her and felt a strange warmth fill his chest as he held out his hand for her to pour some skittles into his palm. Somehow, this snarky, attitudinal, bitchy, ballsy girl had shoved her way into his life and insisted on being his friend, and now he just couldn't imagine life without her in it.

"You're the best," he told her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Don't you forget it," she said. She held up a skittle and looked around their little group to make sure that they were all doing the same. "Ready, aim – _fire_!"

The indignant cries of their targets were drowned out by all the laughter coming from the back of the bus, and Dave pulled Santana in tighter when the Gleeks in the front two rows started laughing as well. _Way to break the tension, Santana. I think we'll survive the ride back to school after all._

* * *

Feedback is very much appreciated!


	19. Bringing Home the Humanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _All quotes in italics come from 'The Laramie Project.'_

_All quotes in italics come from 'The Laramie Project.'_

* * *

"Are we ready for this?" Rachel asked the assembled members of the GSA as they sat together on the bottom step in the quad during lunch one sunny day in mid-April.

"Never readier," Kurt said steadily.

"And we're all clear on the plan?" she continued.

"We're clear on it," Quinn said. "Head to the auditorium when the bell rings, but go in twos and threes, don't sit together, spread out amongst the rest of the students who show up, don't say anything about it being a GSA project until after the assembly."

"Mr. Schue and Coach Beiste will be there to man the projector and the laptop, and Schue will do all the talking before it starts," Puck said, picking up the thread. "He's going off the notes you and Kurt gave him."

"And above all," Tina said, "Don't be afraid to show emotion." She looked around at the boys in the group, and gave them an approving look when they all nodded, even Puck and Azimio, though Dave suspected it was because that was the answer they were supposed to give.

"I still can't believe we pulled this off," Mercedes said.

"Never underestimate the unstoppable force of the combined Berry and Hummel families," Kurt said. He reached across Mercedes' lap to offer Rachel his hand for a quick high-five.

"To be honest, I think Principal Figgins actually liked the idea," Rachel said. "It's not something he could ever do as a compulsory activity without having parents complaining, but an optional assembly where students won't be marked absent for missing class to attend? That he can work with."

"Either way, we got what we wanted," Dave said. "Now it's up to whoever shows up." The group murmured their agreement.

"Our gay and lesbian freshmen and sophomore members will not go in without an upperclassman with them," Rachel said emphatically. "I don't care if you think you can take on the biggest, meanest bullies in the room. We don't need any problems like that at this assembly. You stick with one of us, and you will not react to being provoked or taunted in any way but a calm and non-confrontational manner."

"Got it," Zach said, unusually serious for once. "Are we okay to go sit by upperclassmen not in GSA who we trust?"

"Yeah, you can sit by your brother if he shows," Rashad said. "But Kim goes with you."

"I won't let him out of my sight," Kim said.

Azimio nodded at Cory and Sean. "You two are with me. No one's gonna fuck with you if I'm there."

"Thanks," Sean said quietly.

"We'll take Sophie," Rashad said, gesturing to Mercedes and himself.

"That's everyone," Rachel said in satisfaction. She checked the time on her phone. "The bell rings in a minute. Is there anything else we need to add?"

"We're good," Puck said. "Let's do this thing." He and Artie fist-bumped playfully.

The bell rang, and Rachel and Finn stood. "We'll go first," Rachel said. "I should be sitting on the bottom riser, anyway, just in case Mr. Schuester wants me to say something. Artie?"

"I'm with you," he said, and the three of them left the quad together.

Sam counted down the seconds on his watch, muttering under his breath. When he reached sixty he stood, pulling Quinn up with him. "See you inside," he said. The two of them walked hand in hand in the direction of the auditorium. At intervals of thirty seconds to a minute, members of the GSA left for the assembly.

"What do you think?" Puck said, inclining his head at Girardi, McCarthy, and Tucker, who were slowly making their way out of the quad and heading toward the auditorium.

Dave gave Kurt a questioning look, and at Kurt's nod, he said, "Yeah. Let's do it." They all stood and took off after the trio, making sure to maintain a careful distance behind them. They almost lost sight of their chosen seatmates in the hall outside the auditorium doors, as it was surprisingly crowded, but once they were through they located them again easily enough and went up the stairs to sit in the row directly behind them.

As students filed in to sit on the risers, Puck whistled under his breath. "This is what, two thirds of the school?"

"Hell of a turnout," Dave agreed. At the sound of his voice, McCarthy twisted around in his seat.

"What the hell are you doing sitting behind us?" he asked, lip curled in disgust.

Dave looked around at the rapidly filling risers and then back at McCarthy. "Looks like we're sitting."

Girardi turned to glare. "I don't want queers at my back," he said. "You might do something freaky to me."

"Believe me, Girardi, you're the last person I'd want to do anything with," Dave said. "You're not exactly my type."

Now Tucker turned around, and he looked at Dave in a manner that was not quite as unfriendly as it had been before they'd won the championship game. "So what is your type, then?" he asked.

"For starters, gay," Dave said, and Puck and Kurt choked back laughter. The corner of Tucker's mouth twitched up for a second, and he turned back around.

"C'mon," he said, elbowing Girardi. "They're not gonna do anything to your ass. Just shut up and enjoy being out of class for the next couple hours."

"If they do anything I'm gonna kick their asses," Girardi said, and McCarthy nodded in agreement, but they both turned back to face the front of the auditorium.

Kurt slipped his hand into Dave's and leaned in to whisper in his ear, "Hearing that right before watching this film makes me want to move to some unpopulated tropical island where I can stay until the world becomes a better place."

"Can I come too?" Dave whispered back.

"Like I'd leave you to deal with these jerks by yourself," Kurt replied.

"Isn't it a little early for you two to be eloping?" Puck interjected in a low voice. "I mean, you should at least be dating."

"You have a point," Kurt said. "In that case, I suppose we'll have to move to two different islands that are very, very close together."

"We can build a bridge," Dave said. "Or get canoes."

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "Let's stick with the bridge idea."

"Ugh," Puck groaned quietly. "Will you please stop being so damn cute together? If you raise my insulin levels any higher I'm gonna get diabetes."

Dave just laughed and laced his fingers through Kurt's, tightening their grip on each other's hands. Kurt scooted closer and pressed his leg against Dave's.

"We can do this," Kurt said.

"Yeah," Dave said. "We can."

Up at the front of the auditorium, Coach Beiste stuck her head outside the doors and looked into the hall to check for stragglers. Apparently having seen none, she closed the door and nodded to Mr. Schuester, who held a microphone to his mouth and began to speak.

"Good afternoon," he said. "I'm glad to see you all here." He looked up at the assembled students and asked, "How many of you are here because it gets you out of class?" At the awkward shuffling, he added, "Don't worry. Why you came doesn't matter. I'm just asking out of curiosity."

About three quarters of the students raised their hands. "Okay," he said. "Who's here because your teacher offered you extra credit?" The majority of the quarter left raised their hands. "Great. Now. Who's here because they know what this assembly is for and they want to be here for it?"

Everyone in the GSA raised their hands, as did about a dozen other students. "Those are more hands than I expected to see up in the air," Mr. Schuester said. "For those of you who don't know what this is about, I'm going to fill you in. This afternoon we're going to watch 'The Laramie Project' together. This movie is based on a screenplay by Moisés Kaufman. Most of the dialog in the movie is taken straight from the recordings of over two hundred interviews that Kaufman and his company did with the residents of Laramie, Wyoming."

He paused and scanned the faces of the assembled students. "This is a film about the aftermath of a brutal hate crime that took place in Nineteen-Ninety-Eight. But it's more than just a movie about a murder. It's a story of what that murder did to a quiet town, and how it affected the lives of so many people." He pointed to the doors. "There is no violence depicted in this movie. There isn't much swearing, there is no sex, no drugs. But it is a hard film to watch. It will likely make many of you uncomfortable. The doors aren't locked. If at any time you want to leave, you are free to do so. I won't keep you here. I can only hope that you will take these two hours to set aside the discomfort you may feel and just watch this movie with us." He turned off the microphone and went to the laptop, nodding to Coach Beiste to turn off the lights.

The auditorium went dark, and Mr. Schuester woke his laptop to click the "play" button on the DVD menu. The image projected on the immense pull-down projector screen went dark as the opening credits rolled, and then footage of an idyllic small Wyoming town crossed the screen. " _Now, I first thought that the two kids who did this came from someplace else,_ " a woman's voice said. " _Well, when I learned that they had grown up in Laramie I was just floored._ "

Tom Brokaw's face filled the screen. _"In Laramie, Wyoming a young man is in a deep coma, near death from a savage beating."_ By Dave's side, Kurt gave an almost imperceptible shudder, and Dave squeezed his hand, knowing they were in for a rough assembly.

Several people made brief appearances, speaking one or two sentences that seemed to have far more to do with their personal reaction to the crime than to do with explaining what it was. Then, at around the three minute mark, one of the writers from the theatre company addressed the camera. _"Leigh called me and told me that the company was thinking of going down to Laramie and conducting interviews, and did I want to come? I did, I said yeah, but I – I was hesitant, because as a gay man…. I mean, a kid had just been killed there because he was gay."_

Tucker, McCarthy, and Girardi all jerked in their seats. Girardi made to get up, and Tucker grabbed his jacket and pulled him back down. "You need this extra credit," he hissed. "If you end up on academic probation this semester, you're fucked for playing next year." Girardi shook his head hard, but stayed put, shooting a quick, unfriendly look over his shoulder at Dave and Kurt.

Dave determinedly tuned them out. They weren't sitting behind the three of them to watch how they reacted. They'd chosen to sit there to force the trio to have to put human faces – faces they knew – on this movie about a college kid they'd never heard of before. They were there to make it personal. And it was like he'd said in the quad: now it was up to them. All that mattered now was watching this movie with Kurt and with Puck, Kurt's hand in his and Puck sitting on Kurt's other side like an overprotective guard dog.

He stared at the screen. Every word, every single word, fell like a stone into his mind and lodged there. He flinched when Jedadiah, the gay man who'd addressed the camera, flinched away from Moisés' touch in the diner, and Kurt squeezed his hand. Kurt flinched when the out lesbian teacher talked about how there were lesbians in Laramie who wouldn't ever associate with her because just being seen with her would ruin their reputations, and this time Dave was the one who gave his hand a squeeze. When the grizzled man on the stairs said, _"I heard he made a pass at them. Hell, you don't pick up regular people,"_ they pulled in even closer together.

" _They wanted to teach him a lesson not to come on to straight people_ , _"_ Aaron McKinney's girlfriend said, and Dave was close enough to Kurt to feel Puck briefly rub Kurt's back.

At the reading of the facts at the arraignment, Dave heard someone sitting nearby let out a low gasp.

" _The only place that there wasn't any blood was what appeared to be where he had been crying down his face,"_ the sheriff said.

On it went.

" _It's a crime that goes beyond despicable,"_ Tom Brokaw intoned.

A nameless newscaster reported, _"Russell Henderson and Aaron McKinney have pled not guilty to the charges of kidnapping, aggravated robbery, and attempted murder in the first degree."_

The bartender from the Fireside Lounge said, _"I should've known these guys should not have been talking to that guy. I shouldn't have had my head down while I was washing dishes for those twenty seconds. All those little things I could've done, and I could've stopped this."_

Kurt turned his face to Dave's shoulder briefly at the footage of the vigils and peace marches being held around the country, and out of the corner of his eye Dave saw Puck press a fist to his mouth when Clinton said, _"I hope that in the grief of this moment and in the shared outrage across America, Americans will once again search their hearts and do what they can to reduce their own fear and anxiety and anger at people who are different."_

Someone behind Dave muttered angrily under her breath when a rancher said, _"I think the gay community is taking this as an advantage, said 'This is a good time for us to exploit this.'"_

" _There's this whole idea,"_ the gay rancher said, _"'You leave me alone, and I leave you alone.' It's even in some of the Western literature. 'Live and let live.' That is such crap. Basically, what it boils down to is if I don't tell you I'm a fag, you won't beat the crap out of me."_ And there it was, the second most important reason Dave had had for staying closeted, right after "My parents say God hates gays." That belief that as long as everyone believed he was straight, nothing like this could ever happen to him. Kurt, perhaps sensing Dave's surge of unhappiness, reached across to Dave's thigh with his free hand and slowly traced letters on it.

N-O-T-A-L-O-N-E.

Dave nodded slightly and used his own free hand to do the same. H-A-V-E-Y-O-U.

Y-E-S.

Then came the storeowner, who said emphatically to Jedadiah, _"If my kids asked me, I'd set them down and tell them, 'This is what gay people do. This is what animals do, okay?' And I'd tell them, 'This is the life. This is the lifestyle. This is what they do.' And I'd say, 'This is why I believe it's wrong.'"_

Then came the detective, who confessed to never having given much thought to the gay community before the crime, and how investigating it had changed his mind. _"We're always gonna have people who hold up the old ideals. And I was probably one of them fourteen months ago. But I'm not gonna put up with it anymore, I'm not gonna listen to it. And if they don't like my views on it, fine. The door goes both ways. I've already lost a couple buddies but I don't care. I feel more comfortable. I can sleep at night now."_

Dave straightened in his seat and looked around the stands. He caught sight of Azimio and Rashad almost immediately, as they were searching the stands for him as well. _There you are – my friends_ , the thought, overwhelmingly grateful. _What would I do without you?_ Mercedes pointed past him to Kurt, and Dave nudged Kurt to get his attention. When he was looking in her direction, she drew a heart in the air and smiled at him. Kurt blew her a kiss in return, and he and Dave turned back around to watch the movie again.

The dinner party the gay members of the company held for the gay and lesbian adults in Laramie was both wonderful and painful to watch. _"I wasn't out before, actually,"_ the rancher said _. "I thought, 'Probably they all know, but I'm not gonna, like, tell anyone.' And in the long run, your self-esteem just becomes shit, and I just couldn't live like that anymore."_

" _I know how to take care of myself, but since the episode I've been irrationally terrified,"_ the professor said. _"And what that means is, we don't let our son walk around at night alone. Every time I see a pickup truck do a U-turn, I think it's coming after me, and I'm shaking so badly I have to stop what I'm doing."_

" _I think it's because somewhere inside we all know it could happen to us any time,"_ another woman said, and Puck – _Puck_ – reached over and fumbled for Kurt's other hand at that.

"Not on my watch," Puck said in a not quite whisper. The three letterman's jacket clad backs in the row ahead of them tensed slightly.

" _You think violence is what they did to Matthew?"_ the Catholic priest asked his gay and lesbian interviewers. _"They did do violence to Matthew. But you know…can I make this personal? Every time that you are called a fag, or you are called a lez, or a dyke, do you realize that is violence? That is the seed of violence."_

" _At twelve fifty-three AM, Matthew Shepard died,"_ Matthew's doctor said. _"Matthew's mother said, 'Go,'" –_ he broke off, voice choked with tears. _"'Go home. Give your kids a hug, and don't let a day go by without telling them that you love them.'"_

Kurt sniffed audibly when Matthew's best friend organized "Angel Action" to block off the Westboro Baptist Church's protest from the townspeople at the courthouse, and this time it was Dave who traced those same letters that Kurt had onto Kurt's thigh.

N-O-T-A-L-O-N-E.

Kurt rested his head against Dave's shoulder and wrote back. I-H-A-V-E-Y-O-U.

F-O-R-G-O-O-D.

I-M-G-L-A-D.

" _Mr. Henderson,"_ the judge said at Russell Henderson's sentencing, _"This court does not believe that you really feel any true remorse for your part in this matter. And I wonder whether you fully realize the gravity of what you have done. You drove the vehicle that took Matthew Shepard to his death. You bound him to that fence in order that he might be more savagely beaten, and in order that he might not escape to tell his tale. You left him out there for eighteen hours, perhaps having an opportunity to save his life, and you did nothing."_

That right there was why they were watching this. This was the painful reality that even many of the straight members of GSA had trouble understanding. And hard to accept or not, it was a story that had to be told, and everyone sitting in the auditorium would hear it

" _I think right now our most important teachers must be Russell Henderson and Aaron McKinney,"_ the old Catholic priest said. _"They have to be our teachers. How did you learn? What did we do as a society to teach you that?"_

"You've got to be carefully taught," Kurt murmured, with an odd cadence to his voice that made Dave think he was quoting something like a line from a song.

" _When the defense team argued that McKinney did what he did because Matthew made a pass at him, I just wanted to vomit,"_ a lesbian woman from the dinner party said. _"Because that's like saying it's okay."_

" _As much as part of me didn't want the defense saying that it was a gay bashing or gay panic, a part of me was really grateful,"_ the theater teacher said. _"Because I was really afraid that in this trial they were gonna try and say that it was a robbery or that it was about drugs. So when they used gay panic as the defense, I thought, 'This is good. Because if nothing else, the truth is gonna come out. The truth is gonna be told.'"_

" _What did he say?"_ the detective asked McKinney in the tape of the interrogation.

" _After he asked me to stop, most all he was doing was screaming,"_ McKinney said casually, and Dave swallowed hard around the painful lump in his throat. A low, furious hiss escaped Puck, whistling through his teeth.

There was dead silence in the auditorium as Matthew Shepard's father read out his statement before McKinney's sentencing hearing, everyone riveted by his words. Dave's eyes stung as he listened, and when the screen blurred he swiped at his eyes with the heel of his palm, unsurprised when his hand came back wet with tears. At his side, Kurt discreetly blew his nose into a tissue and stuck it back into his jacket pocket.

As the film wound to a close, the rancher said in a bitter voice, _"It's been over a year since Matthew Shepard died, and they haven't passed shit in Wyoming. They haven't passed it at a state level, any town, anybody, anywhere has passed any kind of laws. Anti-discrimination laws or hate crime legislation, nobody has passed anything anywhere. What's come out of it? What's come out of it that's concrete, and lasting?"_

At the end, Mr. Schuester let the credits roll to their conclusion so that the students in the audience could sit and have a few minutes for the movie to sink in. The lights came back on and Dave blinked at the sudden brightness that filled the auditorium.

"Thank you all for staying," Mr. Schuester said, taking up his microphone again. "Now, before I excuse you to leave, I want to take a few minutes to talk to you." He paused to gather his thoughts and looked out into the audience. "Let's talk about hate. Hate, the hate you've just seen in this movie, doesn't happen in a vacuum. It is something that you learn. You learn it from your friends, from some talk radio shows, from stereotypes on TV and in the movies. You learn it at home and in your church. You learn it here at school," he said, and his eyes sought out Kurt. "You learn it when you see kids here get bullied for being gay or lesbian and see that the teachers do nothing to stop it. And we have failed you all badly in that respect."

He gestured to the stands. "Would the members of the GSA please stand up?"

Dave rose to his feet along with the others, hand still clasped tight in Kurt's. "Look," Mr. Schuester said. "This isn't just about Matthew Shepard. When you think of Matthew, understand this. You don't know Matthew Shepard. You do know Kurt, and Brittany, and Dave, and Cory, and Sophie." He pointed into the audience. "The same thing could happen because of the color of someone's skin. You don't personally know Emmett Till, but you know Anthony, and Mike, and Santana, and Azimio. It could be caused by anti-Semitic or anti-Muslim views, and while you don't know Zohreh Assemi or the victims of James Von Brunn, you know Puck, and Rachel, and Zach.

"On the other side of all that hate and bigotry, there are real people," Mr. Schuester said. "Real people, who have just as much of a right to exist as you do. And I'm not trying to tell you that your religion is wrong, or that your parents are wrong. I'm just asking, as one human being to another: please think. Please. Just think, and while you think, try to understand where it is that these prejudices and biases come from, and whether they're really worth holding on to." He waited a long moment, staring out at the silent audience, and then said, "Thank you."

Puck took advantage of being one of the two dozen people standing to step across the feet of the few students that sat between him and the stairs, and Kurt and Dave followed right behind him. At the bottom of the risers, Puck split off from them, and Kurt pulled Dave across the room to the shadowed area to the left of the stage. They looked at each other for a brief moment, less than a second, and then they let go of each other's hands and fell into each other, clinging tightly together.

"That's the second time I've watched it," Kurt said into Dave's neck. "It hurt as much as it did the first time around."

"I'd be happy to never see it again," Dave said back.

"I know," Kurt said. He nodded, and his hair rubbed against Dave's ear. "Mr. Schue went off script," he said softly.

"Which part?"

"The part about teachers not stopping bullying," Kurt said. "He's been – he's been really good about that this past month. He's always in the halls during lunch and break now."

"Yeah. It hit home, I think, what you said," Dave said.

Kurt nodded. "I'm glad."

"Me too," Dave said.

Kurt went quiet for a moment, and then he said, "I'm done waiting. I think I've been done waiting for a while. I don't want to waste any more time putting off something that I think could be so great." _Oh my god. Kurt – please mean it._

"You mean that?" Dave asked. "It's not just because of the movie?"

Kurt pulled back slowly, not letting go of Dave any more than he had to in order to meet his eyes. "I mean it. And it's not just because of the movie. It's because you mean – you mean so much to me. It's because we have each other, and because I trust you, and because we've been all but dating since, jeez, since February, and most of all, because I think what we could have together would be solid, and real, and wonderful."

"I – god, yes," Dave said. "Yes. Yes. I want this." He pulled Kurt back into his arms, ducking his head slightly to press his face into the side of Kurt's hair. "So this – this makes you my boyfriend, right?"

Kurt laughed quietly. "I think so. Yes. It makes me your boyfriend. And it makes you mine."

No longer worried that Kurt still meant what he'd said in the locker room that day, he said lightly, "I thought I wasn't your type."

"Didn't you know?" Kurt asked. "I have a thing for jocks who can sing – and who have the sweetest smiles."

Dave kissed the side of his head impulsively. "Funny. I have a thing for snarky, fashionable guys who like zombie movies and give great hugs."

"Works out well, doesn't it?" Kurt said, and Dave murmured his agreement into Kurt's hair.

Someone nearby cleared their throat, and Dave and Kurt pulled apart reluctantly to turn and face the owner of the voice. A few feet away, Girardi and McCarthy were standing, looking supremely uneasy at having seen them embracing. Nearby, Tucker stood and watched all four of them with a contemplative look on his face.

"Yeah?" Dave said.

McCarthy shook his head. "Look," he said uncomfortably. "I don't agree with it – I still think it's wrong. But – but I'm not like that."

"We're not like that," Girardi added. "Those guys, that's not us. Okay?"

"We wouldn't ever," McCarthy said.

Their awkward non-apology left Dave at a loss for words, but Kurt said quietly, looking them both in the eyes, "I hope you never do."

Dave found his voice again. "Could you just – lay off? I seriously don't care right now what the hell you believe. But just leave us alone."

"Yeah," McCarthy said. "We'll lay off."

"C'mon," Girardi muttered to McCarthy. "Gotta get to class." The two of them walked off toward the auditorium doors, shooting tense, unsettled looks over their shoulders as they went.

"You got something to say?" Dave asked Tucker.

Tucker shrugged. "You're one of the best guys on the team," he said. "Hummel's the only reason I passed English freshman year. Just 'cause I don't like it doesn't mean I don't think you're okay guys. I'm not gonna go joining your GSA or anything, but I just wanted to tell you that. I don't got a problem with you guys personally, and maybe what I do got a problem with I ought to think about. But it's not 'cause of who you are."

"Okay," Dave said. He hesitated for a moment, then added, "Thanks."

Tucker nodded and left for class, and as he walked off, the few GSA members who were still in the auditorium came over, apparently having spotted them. "What was that about?" Mercedes asked curiously.

"Progress, I hope," Kurt said, and Finn seemed to brighten at Kurt's words.

Santana, arm still looped around Brittany's waist, looked over them with her sharp eyes. "Something's different," she said abruptly.

Kurt smiled and leaned against Dave, and Dave automatically raised his arm to wrap it around Kurt's shoulders. "We're dating," he said. "Really dating, and not just ignoring where we were headed."

"Awesome," Brittany said, and she ran over to give them both a big hug. "Now we can really go on a double date," she said. "We won't have to stand you up any more."

"Sounds like fun," Dave said.

"It's about time," Santana and Mercedes chorused, and they laughed.

Finn looked at them for a long moment. "That's, uh." He took a deep breath, and said sincerely, "Cool. I'm happy for you. For both of you."

 _Only took you a month. I'm impressed._ Dave dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, and said. "Thanks, man. That means a lot."

"You're a good brother, Finn," Kurt said, and Finn shuffled his feet, looking pleased and embarrassed.

"Come on, guys," Mr. Schuester called out from the doorway. "Time to head back to class."

"Coming!" Mercedes called back, and she said in a quieter voice, "Back to our regularly scheduled lives, I guess."

"That's not a bad thing," Kurt said. "Not after what we just watched. It's going to stick with people."

"True," Mercedes said, and they all headed slowly toward the doors. Dave and Kurt brought up the rear, joined hands swinging gently between them.

It wasn't quite a return to normal. And that was a very, very good thing.

* * *

Feedback is very much appreciated!


	20. A Prom for Two

_Thank you, Spooky Bibi, for your invaluable help with the translations._

 

Dave caught up with Kurt at his locker before French, coming up behind him as he was taking out his binder and textbook for their class. "Hey, good looking," he said. "Wanna blow this joint and go make out under the bleachers?"

Kurt turned around and gave him an innocent look. "I'd love to," he said, biting his lower lip with feigned bashfulness. "But I don't think my boyfriend would like it too much if I just ran off with some handsome stranger."

"I could take him," Dave said.

"I don't know," Kurt said. He looked Dave up and down and smiled mischievously. "I think he could hold his own."

Dave grinned and leaned in to give Kurt a quick kiss. "Then maybe you should forget about me and go make out with him under the bleachers at lunch."

"That sounds like even more fun," Kurt said. He shut his locker and took Dave's hand, and they headed off to French together. "But first, prom tickets."

"Prom tickets," Dave agreed. "We're cutting it kinda close, though, aren't we?"

"We can hardly be blamed for that," Kurt said. "What with all the extra rehearsals Mr. Schue is scheduling for us, we have next to no time for anything but classes and Glee. I don't know how Quinn manages to balance Glee and being on the junior prom committee. She's superhuman."

"Where are we even gonna rent tuxedos?" Dave asked. "Two weeks to prom, pickings are gonna be slim."

"We'll figure it out, even if we have to get them from out of town." Kurt sighed. "I'd far rather buy one. I had one last year that I was utterly in love with, but then I shot up four and a half inches over the summer and now I look like a scarecrow in it."

"But a very well dressed scarecrow," Dave said.

"As if I'd ever look otherwise," Kurt said.

"It'd be impossible," Dave said. They walked slowly down the stairs hand in hand, and when they were just outside the door of the French III classroom, Dave said, "I counted four."

"Five," Kurt said.

Dave counted under his breath, trying to remember where he'd seen all the different pride buttons or rainbow ribbons. "No, I still have four. Where was the other one?"

"Over your shoulder while you were propositioning me," Kurt said.

"Cool." Dave pushed open the door and led the way in. The two of them joined Azimio in their usual spot toward the back of the class.

"I don't like the look in Warren's eyes," Azimio whispered as they slid into the desks beside him. "That's not a good look."

"Bonjour à tous!" Mme. Warren trilled, brandishing a sheaf of papers. She divided them into smaller stacks and handed them to the students sitting in the first row, and as they passed the papers back, she went on to say, "Étant donné qu'il ne reste que deux chapitres à voir pour terminer le cours, j'ai pensé qu'un test récapitulatif de la matière vue jusqu'à présent serait une bonne idée. Vous avez jusqu'à la cloche pour le compléter. Bonne chance!"

"Ugh," Azimio groaned as he looked over the sheet. "This sucks."

"En franҫais, s'il vous plait," Mme. Warren chided.

"C'est pas si mal," Kurt said. "En plus," he said quietly, turning around to murmur to Dave, "Si on termine tôt, je pourrai pratiquer mes phrases de drague sur toi. J'ai toujours voulu séduire quelqu'un en français."

"Ça paraît amusant," Dave said, leaning in until their noses were nearly touching. "Mais seulement si je peux te rendre la pareille."

"Comme si j'allais te rejeter," Kurt said.

"Vous pouves commencer," Mme. Warren said, and Kurt gave Dave one last smile and turned back around to start in on his test.

As Dave began to fill in the bubbles beside the multiple choice questions, his mind wandered off in far more pleasant directions. _I know what I want to try first – Are you a kleptomaniac, or did you steal my heart on purpose?_

 

"So what obscenely cute things have you done today?" Rashad asked facetiously when they sat down at the table in the quad with their friends.

"Don't ask," Azimio said. "I'm still trying to forget the last twenty minutes."

"You never know," Dave said. "It could come in handy one day."

"Hot French chicks aren't going to show up in Lima, bro," Azimio said.

"You're such a pessimist," Kurt said.

"I'm a realist," Azimio said.

"If you say so," Kurt said. He looked across the table at Mercedes. "Do you have a prom dress picked out?"

"Yes," she said, positively glowing with excitement. "It's gorgeous. Do you want to come over and see it this weekend?"

"Absolutely," he said. "Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

"I have a matching cummerbund and everything," Rashad said. "We're going to look awesome."

"I'm sure," Kurt said sincerely, then turned to Dave. "Oh – prom tickets."

"Right, prom tickets," Dave said. He stood and made to go to the booth at the edge of the quad where two of the prom committee members were selling tickets. "I'm on it."

Kurt snagged a belt loop on his jeans. "Not so fast," he said, and tugged him back down by the front of his jacket to kiss him. "Now you can go."

"Well, now I don't want to go," Dave said. "Bad move."

Kurt laughed. "In that case, I suppose I ought to take it back."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Dave said, and he cupped Kurt's cheek to give him another soft kiss. "There. It's all yours again."

"Get going," Rashad said. "I'm starting to feel like I'm trapped in some romantic comedy, watching you two."

"I'm going," Dave said. He straightened and walked away in the direction of the booth, unable to control the wide smile that had broken out across his face.

"It's about time," Quinn said when he got there. "I was starting to think you and Kurt weren't going to come to prom."

"Would we miss it?" Dave asked.

"I know Kurt wouldn't," Quinn said. "But I suspect you're more of the stay at home and watch movies type."

"It's prom," Dave said, as if that explained everything. In a lot of ways, it did. Kurt wanted to go, and Dave wanted to make Kurt happy. But he wanted to go as well – before Kurt, he'd never imagined that he'd be able to go to a school dance with someone he honestly wanted to go with. It was one of those rites of passage that he'd thought he'd miss out on. He wasn't about to pass up the opportunity if he could help it.

"Very true," the other girl at the booth said. "It's thirty bucks for two people, by the way."

Dave pulled out his wallet and handed over a twenty and a ten. "Seems cheap," he said.

"We booked the venue for free," she explained, putting his money into their cash box. "Maggie, the VP on the Student Council? Her mom owns the property."

Quinn handed over two tickets, which Dave tucked in his wallet. "I'm so glad you're going," she said. "We're going to have such a good time."

"Yeah we are," Dave said. "Thanks. See you in Glee."

"For another fun-filled session of 'let's sing the same four songs over and over again," Quinn said. "I can't wait."

"You have to admit, though, it doesn't hurt as bad as football or Cheerios practice," Dave said.

Quinn smiled. "There is that." She made a shooing gesture. "Go back to your boyfriend. I'm sure he's been missing you for the three minutes you've been gone."

"Maybe I'm the one missing him," Dave suggested, and at her giggle he stuck his wallet back into his back pocket and went back to their table.

"Got 'em," he said, sitting back down beside Kurt.

"Fantastic," Kurt said. He shoved Dave's pizza over. "Eat quickly."

He took a large bite of the pizza slice, and after he'd swallowed the mouthful, asked, "Why?"

"Well," Kurt said as he speared another forkful of his salad, "If I'm not mistaken, we have an appointment to keep."

"Oh, right." He propped an elbow on the table and took another bite. "You, me, the bleachers. Don't know how I forgot."

"I'd like to forget that," Azimio said. "Can I forget that? 'Cause forgetting your whole French pick-up lines thing isn't working for me."

"I'm so sorry," Kurt said dryly. "Really, my sympathy knows no bounds."

"No you're not," Azimio said.

Kurt pointed his fork at him and said, "You caught me. I'm not sorry at all. But I'll refrain from bothering you for now – all this talking is delaying my rendezvous under the bleachers with my very kissable boyfriend."

Azimio shook his head and said, "I didn't think you had such a mean streak, Hummel."

"It's weird," Dave said. "A month ago, you guys were giving us shit for not going out. Now that we are, you just want us outta your faces."

"We hit our sappiness saturation point with you," Rashad said. "Now it's a health hazard."

"Hypocrite," Kurt said. He began eating faster, and he and Dave finished their lunches in record time.

"Gotta run," Dave said, getting up from the table. "Catch you guys later."

"Take your time," Rashad said. "Please."

"I don't think that will be a problem," Kurt said with a wicked smile, and sprinted from the quad with Dave hot on his heels, dodging the tater tots that Rashad and Azimio threw after them.

They collapsed on the grass beneath the bleachers, out of breath and laughing. "Think we oughta tone it down around 'em?" Dave asked.

"Not a bit," Kurt said. He rolled on his side to face Dave, eyes dancing. "Now, where were we?"

Dave pulled him all the way over so that Kurt was lying half on top of him. "Somewhere right about here," he said.

Kurt dropped his head, and when his lips were just a fraction of an inch away from Dave's he said playfully, "That's what I thought."

Dave closed the gap and smiled against Kurt's mouth, reaching up to thread his fingers carefully through the back of Kurt's perfectly styled hair, doing his best not to muss it too much. "Mm-hmm." He softened his lips to capture Kurt's in an easy, unhurried kiss. "We're going to prom, you know."

"Mm. I heard something about that," Kurt said, kissing Dave again. "We're going to dress up –" another kiss "– and go to dinner –" Dave was kissed again "– and get our prom photo –"

Dave cut him off with another kiss. "And dance, and have fun."

"Less talking, more kissing," Kurt said, and demonstrated exactly what he meant by that by giving him a slow, tender kiss that Dave felt all the way down his spine.

I'm all in favor of that. He gave a little internal sigh of happiness as they lay there under the bleachers sharing lazy kisses, the sun painting the grass with broad bright stripes and the distant sound of students in his ears. _This right here is almost everything I could hope for to make my life perfect. And right now, almost perfect is plenty good enough._

 

On the morning of the junior prom, Kurt came downstairs from his room later than usual, and Dave had to do a double take when he saw that he was still in his pajamas. He shuffled into the kitchen, red nosed and bleary eyed, and opened a cabinet to get a large mug. After he'd filled it with water and stuck it in the microwave, he turned to Dave and said in a clogged voice, "We're not going to prom." It sounded like "We're dod goig do brob."

Dave winced. "Yeah," he said. "I guess not. Sit down. I'll get your tea. What do you want?"

"The lemon ginger one," Kurt said. He collapsed into a seat at the kitchen table and slumped forward, crossing his arms on top of the table and resting his head on them. "I feel like hell."

"Don't look like you're doing too hot, either," Dave said. He fetched the box of herbal tea from the pantry and set it on the counter below the microwave. Kurt gave him a halfhearted glare from behind his arms, and Dave added, "I only mean you look sick, that's all."

"Mmph." Kurt sniffed. "Do we have any tissues down here?"

"Think they're in the living room," Dave said. "Wanna go crash in there while I do the tea?" Kurt sat up and nodded groggily. "How about for breakfast?"

"The fruit salad in the fridge," Kurt said, and he shuffled back out of the kitchen to the living room.

Dave got out the small Tupperware container of fruit salad and a fork, and when the microwave beeped he took out the mug and dumped a teabag in. "Give it a couple minutes," he told Kurt, joining him on the couch. "It's still pretty weak. Eat first."

Kurt took the mug from him carefully and set it on the coffee table, then accepted the fork and the fruit salad. "Thanks," he said, stabbing a slice of kiwi with his fork. "This is awful."

"Could be worse," Dave said. He grabbed the afghan that was draped across the far end of the couch and spread it across their laps. "It could always be worse."

"Don't jinx us," Kurt muttered. He leaned against Dave and said morosely, "I was really looking forward to tonight."

"Me too," Dave said.

"You could still go," Kurt said, listlessly taking another bite of his breakfast.

"Like I'd do that," Dave said. He stole a piece of melon and popped it in his mouth. "If you're not going, then I'm gonna have fun hanging out at home in my PJs, too."

"As they say, misery loves company," Kurt said.

"And here I thought it was just because you wanted me around," Dave said.

"That too," Kurt said. "If you were gone, I'd have to make my own tea."

"So demanding," Dave joked. "What'd I ever do to deserve such a pushy boyfriend?"

"Got lucky," Kurt said smugly.

"That sounds about right," Dave said. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. "There's a 'Law and Order' marathon on TNT, if you wanna watch it."

"I don't know," Kurt said. "I'm not really a fan of procedural dramas."

"Yeah, but you have a thing for that Jesse Martin guy," Dave said. "You'd put up with any kind of show to watch him."

"I can't help it," Kurt said. "He was in 'Rent.'"

"Sure," Dave said, flipping to the right channel. "That's gotta be it."

Kurt let out a congested laugh and settled more firmly against Dave's side. "Hush, you. Let me watch my show in peace. I'm sick. Leave me alone."

"Okay." Dave reached out to get Kurt's tea and pressed the mug into his hands. "I'll be nice."

"Good," Kurt said, taking a sip of his tea.

They watched an episode and a half together, Dave poking fun at some of the overacted scenes and Kurt making cutting remarks about the dated 90's clothing. As a new episode started up, someone tapped Dave on the shoulder, and he turned to see Burt standing behind him looking at him soberly. He beckoned, and Dave gently pushed Kurt upright so he could stand.

"I'll be right back," he promised, picking up Kurt's empty mug. "With tea."

Kurt smiled. "Don't take too long."

Burt led him back into the kitchen. "This arrived in the mail today," he said, handing Dave an envelope with very familiar handwriting on the front.

"Oh," Dave said dumbly. He stared down at the envelope in his hand. _Mom wrote to me? But – why would she write to me?_

"Now, if you want, I can read it first to make sure it doesn't have anything bad in it," Burt said, and Dave shook his head.

"No," he said. "I think – I think I can handle it."

Burt took the mug from Dave's hand and went to fill it up. "You don't have to do anything about it right now," he said. "You can sit on it until you feel ready."

"I'll probably do that," Dave said. He sat heavily at the kitchen table and looked at the envelope blankly as Burt took care of the tea. _Why now? What does she want? What do they want?_ Part of him wanted to rip it open right there and read it immediately, while another part wanted to set it on fire and flush the ashes down the toilet. Yet another part of him wanted to hang on to it and wait until long after his heart had stopped pounding before he even looked at its contents.

Burt sat down across from him, setting the steeping mug of tea on the table between them. "No matter what it says, you'll still have a place with us if you want it," he said. "I promise you that."

"I know," Dave said. He tried to smile. "Thanks." He folded the envelope in half and stood, shoving it in his back pocket and picking up the mug. "I have a delivery to make."

"Dave," Burt said. "It'll be alright."

Dave nodded. "Yeah," he said. _I hope so._

 

Finn cornered Dave upstairs in Kurt's room fifteen minutes before he was supposed to take off to go pick up Rachel. "What're you doing?" he asked upon seeing Dave sitting in front of Kurt's open laptop.

"Torrenting a zombie movie for tonight. And getting Kurt's iPod – he wants it." Dave looked up and grinned. "You clean up nice, Hudson."

Finn shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the doorframe, looking surprisingly dapper in his tuxedo. "I'd say the same, but. Well."

"Yeah," Dave said. "Holey jeans and a t-shirt just don't measure up."

"Sorry you're gonna miss it, dude," Finn said sympathetically.

"Always next year," Dave said. "And senior prom is supposed to be better, anyway."

"You're planning on being together that long?" Finn asked.

Dave's eyebrows rose on their own accord, and he gave Finn a disbelieving look that was only half-joking. "Why? Do you plan on breaking up with Rachel any time soon? Or is this just you trying to figure out if I'm serious about Kurt or not?"

"No, no," Finn said hastily. "I know you are. Sorry. I'm just happy that Kurt's happy, and I want him to stay that way. You know?"

"Yeah. Me too." He unplugged the laptop cord from the wall and as he curled it into a neat coil he said, "I like making him happy. And he makes me happy. So yeah, I'm planning on having us stay happy. Hopefully together."

"Cool." Finn took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms for a second before dropping them to fiddle with a button on his shirt. "So, uh. I wanted to ask you something."

"Shoot," Dave said.

"I know we're cool again, but, uh – that whole thing with the kiss in the locker room," he said. "I, um. Why? I want to understand it. You don't have to tell me, but I just want to know why."

Dave leaned back in the computer chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'll do my best," he said. "So, imagine you're gay."

Finn furrowed his brow and nodded. "Okay."

"You're gay, and everything you've ever been taught by your parents or your pastor says that it's a sin," he said. "And you really, really hate yourself, but you're dealing. Then, out of nowhere, you look at this guy you've seen practically every day since middle school, and it's like you're seeing him for the first time. And it stops being just a thing that you can pretend isn't true anymore, because he's there in your head now, and everywhere you go you keep running into him, and it gets harder and harder to ignore that you're someone your parents tell you is going to hell. And you're jealous, too, because he's just being who he is and holding his head up and not letting anyone tell him he can't be gay. He's cute, and he's sarcastic, and he dresses like he's meant for someplace like New York or Paris and not Lima. Still with me?"

"Yeah," Finn said.

"So you push him around and hope that giving him crap will make it go away," Dave said. "And when summer rolls around, you spend the whole time hoping that when the next school year starts, it'll be out of your system and you can go back to pretending and dealing with hating yourself like usual. Except when school starts again, it's worse than ever, because he's more confident, and he's even better looking, and you realize you're totally fucked. So you treat him even worse. Then one day he doesn't just take it, and he chases you down and gets in your face and starts yelling, pushing and pushing and insulting you, and he doesn't even realize it but everything he's saying is like a direct hit to everything you've been trying to ignore. And all you can do is yell at him to go away, and you want to run or hide or fucking cry, and then he calls you a coward and before you know it you're kissing him, because you don't want to be a coward, and he's that guy you've had a crush on for months, and he's literally the only person you know who might understand it, and you're hoping that he's gonna see why you do what you do and forgive you." He gave Finn a lopsided smile. "Then he shoves you away and you hit a locker and run away."

"Jesus," Finn breathed, wide eyed. "I mean, shit. That's – I should've asked you sooner."

"It's okay," Dave said, shrugging. "Me and Kurt are fine now. I mean, if I could go back and change it and just have come out without ever having messed with him, I would, but we're okay, and I figure that's really what counts."

"I feel like I should be the one saying sorry," Finn said.

Dave shook his head. "Nah. You were just looking out for him. I'm not gonna hold that against you. So you get it now?"

"Yeah," Finn said. "I get it."

"Good." Dave looked at the laptop to check the time. "Better get a move on, man. Rachel's not gonna be happy if you're late."

"Right," Finn said. He hesitated in the doorway for a moment. "We're still cool, right?"

"We're still cool," Dave said. "See you later – have fun."

"Sure thing." Finn disappeared down the hall, and Dave stood to get Kurt's iPod from his book bag. He stuck it in his pocket, picked up the open laptop, and made his way back down the living room where Kurt was waiting and nursing his tenth cup of herbal tea.

"So what do we have?" Kurt asked as Dave set up the laptop.

"'Dance of the Dead,'" Dave said. "Zombie prom movie. Thought it was appropriate."

"I like the sound of that," Kurt said. He pulled Dave down beside him on the couch and snuggled into his side. "Our dinner should be here any minute."

"Mm, Chinese," Dave said. "Best prom food ever." He took Kurt's iPod out of his pocket and handed it over. "Here you go."

Kurt beamed. "Thank you."

"No problem."

"Boys?" Carole said, coming into the living room. "I need you to look over here." They obediently turned to face her and were met by a brief flash of light.

"Carole!" Kurt cried. "What was that for?"

"It's still your prom," she said, waving the camera at them. "Now you have a prom photo."

Kurt gave her a disapproving look, but it didn't last for more than a second before he smiled. "Thanks, Carole."

She bustled over to give him a kiss on his forehead. "It's my pleasure, honey," she said. "Burt will be in with your dinner as soon as it arrives."

"Sounds good," Kurt said, and Carole stroked his hair back from his forehead in a motherly fashion before leaving the living room.

"They're really great," Dave said, his mind going back to the envelope currently burning a hole in his back pocket.

"They are, aren't they?" Kurt said happily, and at the sound of the doorbell ringing, he perked up and shifted the laptop to one side of the coffee table to make room for the cartons of food.

Burt came in with a plastic bag stuffed with red and white paper cartons. "Here it is," he said, setting it on the table. "Chopsticks are in the bag. Have a good time, guys – Carole and I are going out to Breadstix for dinner. We'll be home in a couple hours." He looked at them sternly, his laughing eyes giving him away. "No funny business, you two."

"Just hang out and blow my nose every five minutes," Kurt said. "Got it."

"Exactly," Burt said. "We'll see you soon."

"Bye, Dad," Kurt said, and waved at Burt as he walked out.

Dave sat forward to pull the cartons out of the bag, and Kurt tugged him back down. "Not now," he said. "I just want to sit."

"We can do that," Dave said, wrapping his arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Sounds better than eating, anyway."

They sat quietly for a while, only interrupted by the intermittent sounds of Kurt sniffling into a tissue quietly. A few minutes after Burt and Carole had left, he straightened and began fiddling with his iPod. "Come here," he said, standing and walking to the middle of the room. He clipped the iPod cover to the waistband of his PJ's and held out his hand. Dave got up and joined him, accepting the proffered earbud as Kurt put the other into his own ear. "You lead this time," he said, putting a hand on Dave's shoulder. "One dance. Then we can have dinner and watch that movie and be glad we're not being attacked by zombies."

"Sounds good," Dave said. He took Kurt's hand and put the other on Kurt's hip, pressing the play button with his thumb. The song they'd danced to at the wedding began to play, and this time, it had lyrics. His breath caught in his throat as he listened and led Kurt in the same simple back and forth dance they'd done before, eyes closed and cheek pressed against the side of Kurt's tousled hair.

 _"It's very clear; our love is here to stay. Not for a year, but forever and a day. The radio, and the telephone, and the movies that we know, may all be passing fancies and in time may go. But oh my dear, our love is here to stay. Together we're going a long, long way. In time the Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble, they're only made of clay. But our love is here to stay."_

"I'm going to kiss you now," Dave told him, hoping his voice didn't betray how lightheaded he felt.

"Thank you for the advance notice," Kurt said, a small smile playing about his mouth. "But what if I get you sick?"

"I don't care," Dave said, and dropped Kurt's hand to take his face between his palms and pulled him into a breathless kiss, giddy and terribly, terribly in love. Kurt slid his hands up Dave's back, leaning in to kiss him back just as enthusiastically.

Kurt broke it off slowly, pulling back with a reluctant look. "I think we're edging toward that funny business Dad was chiding us about," he said, pressing a kiss to Dave's jaw.

"Think you're right," Dave agreed, equally reluctant. He sighed and gave Kurt a last, far more chaste, kiss, and took Kurt's hand again to go back to the couch. _You're amazing_. "Want to start on the mu shu pork or the moo goo gai pan?" _I love you_. "I don't care which." _So much_.

"Whichever comes out of the bag first," Kurt suggested, taking up his spot pressed up against Dave's side once more.

"Works for me," Dave said, grabbing a carton at random and fishing out the chopsticks at the bottom of the bag. "Mu shu pork it is."

"Tasty," Kurt said. He moved the bag to his other side and slid the laptop over, opening the finished torrent to start playing it. "I hope this doesn't spoil dinner for me."

"It's a comedy," Dave said. "It shouldn't be too bad." He opened the carton and set it on top of their knees, stealing another kiss as he handed over the chopsticks.

"True." Kurt pinched a mouthful of pork with his chopsticks and said contentedly, "All things considered, this is shaping up to be a great prom night."

"I completely agree," Dave said. He put his arm around Kurt's shoulders again, settling back into the couch to watch the movie. _You have no idea how totally in love with you I am._

Kurt fell asleep with fifteen minutes left of the film. Dave moved the empty carton off his knee and pulled Kurt over gently so that he could rest his head on his lap. As he absentmindedly ran his fingers through his boyfriend's hair, he thought once again of the envelope in his pocket, and despite his fervent desire to keep tonight as wonderful and brilliant and incredible as it had been, he still found himself shifting on the couch slightly to pull the envelope from his pocket. He opened it carefully, setting aside the envelope and unfolding the sheet of paper inside. He held it face down on the cushion beside him for several seconds, bracing himself, and brought it up to his face and began to read.

 

Mme. Warren: "Good morning, class! Now what we're only two chapters away from finishing our textbook, I thought it would be a good idea to have a review test of what we've learned this semester. You have until the bell rings to finish. Good luck!"

Kurt: "It's not that bad. Besides, if we finish early, I'll get to practice my pick-up lines on you. I've always wanted to romance someone in French."

Dave: "Sounds like fun. But only if I get to do it too."

Kurt: "Like I'd turn you down."

Mme. Warren: "You may start now.

The song is "Our Love is Here to Stay." It was written in 1937 by George and Ira Gershwin.


	21. Took the Midnight Train Going Anywhere

“Okay,” Mr. Schuester said, addressing the half-asleep members of New Directions and their chaperones as they stood in the Amtrak parking lot in Toledo at four-thirty in the morning. “Last check, guys. Tickets? Bags? Spending money?”

Thirteen heads bobbed up and down as they yawned and rubbed the sleep from their eyes. “C’n we just get on th’ train?” Finn asked tiredly. “I wanna go back t’ sleep.”

“I like the sound of that,” Santana said, pulling her fleece blanket tighter around her shoulders and clutching a large travel mug to her chest. “I want sleep, and I want more coffee, and then I want more sleep.”

“Let’s get a move on, then,” Carole said. She hefted her duffel bag over her shoulder and led the way through the door and into the station.

The ticket agent raised an eyebrow at their large group. “Going on a school trip?”

“New York,” Rachel said, propping herself up against Finn to stay on her feet. “Singing competition.”

“Have a good time,” the agent said. She reached out a hand and said, “I need your tickets, kids.” There was a rustling sound as everyone pulled their tickets from their bags or their pockets and passed them up to Carole, who handed them over to the agent. The agent processed them quickly and gave them back to Carole in a neat stack. “Enjoy your ride.”

“Thanks.” Carole, Mr. Schuester, and Rachel’s dads shepherded them out to the waiting area so they could get their tickets back and prepare to board the train.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be stuck on a train for sixteen hours,” Kurt grumped. He squeezed the large pillow he held wrapped in his arms and swayed on his feet, eyes mere slits against the light of the station.

“At least we don’t have to transfer to a different train,” Dave said, though in truth he felt much the same way.

“Do you all have your cards?” Carole asked Finn, Kurt and Dave. “Dave?”

“Yeah,” Dave said, warmth suffusing his chest. Yesterday, after he’d finished up at the shop, Burt had pulled him aside and handed him a debit card with his name on it.

 _“It’s yours,” Burt had said. “I opened the account for you after you started working for me. You’ve earned every penny, and I want you to have it before you go on your trip.”_

“Good,” she said as Finn and Kurt both mumbled tired affirmations. “Will, how long do we have?”

Mr. Schuester checked his watch. “About ten minutes before we can board. Take a load off, guys. Have a seat on the benches.”

“If I sit I’m going to fall asleep,” Quinn said. “If I fall asleep on my feet, hitting the floor will wake me up.”  
“Good plan,” Mercedes said, hanging on to Puck’s arm and yawning loudly.

Mike and Tina sat on the nearest bench together, passing a travel mug even larger than Santana’s back and forth between them. “I want to be awake,” Tina said. “I’ve never been on a train before. It sounds cool.”

“Not really,” Sam said. “It’s a bigger, faster, cleaner bus. That’s about it. Same weird passengers, same frequent stops.”

“Way to spoil the fun,” Santana said. “Killjoy.”

“It’s better than that,” one of Rachel’s dads said. Dave thought he was the one named Leroy, but he’d been too tired to keep their names straight when they’d introduced themselves at McKinley at three in the morning. “There’s food, and a viewing car, and much more comfortable seats.”

“That sounds nice,” Brittany said. “Will it go straight to our hotel?”

“Only to Penn Station,” Rachel’s other dad, the one Dave thought was named Hiram, said. “But it’s a short trip from there to the hotel.”

“I want to be a queen,” Brittany said.

“I don’t,” Santana said. “Can you imagine how boring that would be?” Brittany frowned thoughtfully, apparently attempting to imagine it, and Santana shook her head and wrapped half of her blanket around Brittany’s shoulders so that they were cuddled up together underneath it. “Never mind, Brit. You’d be an awesome queen.”

“I’d be totally awesome,” Brittany agreed.

Kurt stumbled, and Dave automatically caught him, steadying him with an arm around his waist. “You doing okay?”

“Late night getting homework out of the way,” Kurt said, leaning into him. “I’m just – ugh. Words can’t accurately convey how tired I am.”

“Same here,” Rachel said. “I don’t even remember what I wrote for the last half of my English essay. I just hope it’s coherent.”

“No homework talk,” Artie said. “We’re going to New York. Homework doesn’t exist this weekend.”

“Damn straight,” Puck said. “This is strictly fun times.”

“Excluding competing tomorrow,” Quinn said.

“Better get some sleep on the train, then,” Mike said. “There’s no way we can perform if we’re running that kind of sleep deficit.”

Mercedes nodded. “Seriously, guys. Any of you try to wake me up, you’re going to get hurt.”

“Duly noted,” Kurt said. Anything he was about to say further was cut off by the ticket agent announcing the arrival of their train on the loudspeaker.

“Time to go!” Mr. Schuester said brightly, with far too much energy than was decent before five a.m. “Everyone have their bags? Great!”

“There’s something very wrong with him,” Kurt said in an undertone as they followed along in his wake to the boarding platform. “Do you think he took vitamin D when he woke up?”

“Why would vitamin D make him that energetic?” Dave asked.

“It’s something from last year,” Kurt explained. “His ex-wife was the school nurse for a week. She gave us all extra strength Sudafed and told us it was vitamin D.”

“Oh.” Dave laughed. “Yeah, that could be it.” They crowded onto the platform together, waiting for the doors to open. “So what do you want to do on Sunday?”

“You’re not going to get it out of me,” Kurt said. “Tired or not, I can withstand your interrogation.”

“I’m curious, so sue me,” Dave said.

Kurt just laughed into the collar of Dave’s jacket. “If I haven’t told you the last dozen times you’ve asked, why would you think that I’d tell you now?”

“Because you’re dead on your feet and I’m trying to take advantage,” Dave said.

“You’re shameless,” Kurt accused.

“Yup,” Dave said.

The doors slid open and their group rushed to get inside, eager to find their seats. “We’re upstairs and a car over,” Mr. Berry Number One said, pointing toward the front of the train. It had been a stroke of genius on Rachel’s dads’ part to pool all their money before purchasing their tickets, and as a result their seats were all close together. They stopped for a brief moment to pull their bags closer to their bodies so as not to hit anyone and made their way up the stairs as quickly as possible.

Dave and Kurt dropped into their seats with identical sighs of relief. Kurt put his pillow between the window and his head and slumped against it, turning to the side and tucking his legs up beside him awkwardly. “Want the armrest up?” Dave asked.

Kurt nodded. “Please.” Dave lifted the armrest and tugged Kurt’s feet onto his lap, unfolding Kurt’s legs from their cramped position.

“That better?”

“Much,” Kurt said, flexing his feet and burying his head in his pillow.

Dave leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He wasn’t nearly as tired at Kurt, but another few hours of sleep would have been fantastic. Unfortunately, the large cup of coffee he’d drunk before heading to McKinley had had much more of an effect on him than it had on Kurt and Finn. Resigning himself to spending the next few hundred miles as the only one awake who wasn’t an adult, he took his iPod from his pocket and slipped the earbuds in.

A few songs later, the train lurched forward and began moving smoothly. Kurt stirred and kicked Dave lightly in the thigh to get his attention. He turned the iPod off and looked over. “What’s up?”

“Quinn,” Kurt said.

“No, I’m Dave,” he said, affecting a look of concern. “Are you okay?”

“No, I mean –” Kurt yawned and kicked his shoes off into the space at Dave’s feet. “You should talk to her. About the letter.”

“I don’t want anyone else to know,” Dave said. “You know that.” He was still trying to wrap his head around the contents, let alone decide what to do. The idea of talking about it made him very uncomfortable.

“You should talk to her,” Kurt said stubbornly. “She has a rather unique insight into this kind of situation.”

“Yeah? How so?” Dave asked.

“How much of what happened to her last year do you know about?” Kurt asked.

Dave shrugged. “Quinn got pregnant and gave her kid up for adoption.”

“Did you ever wonder how her parents took it?” At Dave’s slow shake of his head, Kurt said again, “Talk to her. I think it could help.”

“If you think so, then I guess it’s worth a shot,” Dave said reluctantly.

“I do,” Kurt said, settling back against his pillow and closing his eyes. “You might want to do it now. It’s early enough that the viewing car will probably be empty. It would give you some privacy.”

“And it’d give you more space to sleep, right?” Dave asked.

Kurt smirked sleepily into his pillow. “There’s that factor, too.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.” Dave lifted Kurt’s feet off his lap enough for him to slip out of his seat and set them back down. “I’ll bring back breakfast in a few hours.”

“Mm, wonderful.”

Dave made his way up a few rows and stopped by Quinn’s seat, where she was sitting and reading a novel with her head propped up on her hand. “Hey,” he said quietly. “You awake enough to go out to the viewing car with me? I need to talk to you.”

She stuck a bookmark in the open pages and set it at her feet. “Sure,” she said in an equally soft voice. She stood slowly, making sure not to wake Sam, and followed Dave past the rest of the seats into the next car.

“What’s up?” she asked as they took a seat on a small couch facing the window. It was still too dark to see anything properly, though the sky was beginning to fade from black into a dim purple-blue, and the large pane of glass reflected their faces back at them as they looked out at the passing landscape.

“I need advice,” Dave said. “Kurt said you could help.”

“I’ll do my best,” Quinn said. “What is it?”

Dave pulled out his wallet and opened it to retrieve the creased and wrinkled letter he’d been carrying around in it for the better part of two weeks. “Probably better for you to just read it,” he said. Quinn took it from him and unfolded it, and as she read silently Dave mentally read it along with her, having long since memorized the words on the page.

 _Dear Dave,  
This is a hard letter to write to you. Since the night you left not a day has gone by  
that you haven’t been in our prayers. We’ve prayed for your redemption, for your  
return to Christ, and for God to show you the true path once again. It has been  
our fervent hope that someday you might see the error of your ways and come  
home to us, our prodigal son who has repented and learned his lesson._

 _That is what we’ve prayed for. Now we simply pray for you to come home. It’s  
a difficult thing, reconciling our faith with our family, and your father and I have   
a long way to go. However, we are trying. The Church teaches us that to be   
homosexual is to sin, and it’s a belief that your father and I have never questioned.  
And yet, we have heard from other sources, including the minister at that liberal   
church, St. Simon’s, that it is not a choice, but how people are born. If that is the   
case, then it is cause to wonder, as the Church also teaches that God, in His infinite   
wisdom, makes no mistakes._

 _We are struggling with this, Dave, and we can’t simply shed the teachings of a  
lifetime just because we want to believe that there is nothing wrong with your  
lifestyle. But we do love you. Your father acknowledges that he may have been  
wrong to react as he did on Christmas Eve toward the son of the man who has  
taken you into his home, and, if given a chance, he would apologize to him._

 _Although we would prefer it if you stopped being gay and became heterosexual  
again, it isn’t a condition that we will set for your return to our home. There isn’t   
a time limit on answering us, either, as we know that you no doubt feel hurt  
by our actions. Just know that we want you home._

 _With love,_

 _Mom and Dad_

“Oh, wow,” Quinn said as she folded the letter back up, looking infinitely more awake. “That’s – wow.”

“Kinda sums it up, yeah,” Dave said. “So? Why’d Kurt tell me to talk to you?”

“You don’t know?” Quinn asked. Dave shook his head. “My parents threw me out last year when they found out I was pregnant. Well, my dad threw me out. Mom stood by and let it happen.”

“That sucks,” Dave said. “I’m sorry. So what happened? I thought you were back living with your parents again.”

“I’m living with my mom,” Quinn said. “She divorced my dad and came to Regionals to apologize to me and asked me to come back home.”

“And everything’s okay?” Dave asked.

“No,” Quinn said. “I love her, and I’m glad she came and apologized and that I’m not living with Finn or Puck or Mercedes anymore, but our relationship is still pretty rocky. She’s working on making it up to me, and I’m working on forgiving her, but I won’t ever forget that it happened, and I think a part of me will always be angry that she let me down when I needed her the most.”

“So it’s not worth it,” Dave said.

Quinn met his eyes in their shadowy reflections. “I didn’t say that. It was totally worth it for me. She’s still my mother, after all, and God asks us to forgive those who sin against us. I’m trying to live up to that, and the only way I can do it is to give her a chance.”

“So you’re still a Christian, then?” Dave asked.

“I’m still Catholic,” Quinn said. “Despite everything that’s happened. I don’t hold anyone’s lack of faith against them – Kurt is a good friend of mine, and he’s an atheist – but my faith is important to me.”

Dave hesitated a moment, then asked, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but isn’t the Catholic Church down on gays like my parents’ church is?”

“Completely,” Quinn said. “All the way up to reinterpreting Scripture to say that angels, who are supposed to be beautiful, genderless beings, are male so as to claim that Sodom was destroyed because the men of the city wanted gay sex, conveniently forgetting that the ‘good man’ of the story offered up his two virgin daughters for them to rape in the angels’ place.”

“Sounds like you don’t agree with that,” Dave said.

Quinn smiled. “I don’t. And not agreeing with it doesn’t interfere with my faith. When I was living with Puck last year, his mother told me something that stuck with me. She said that God encourages us to ask questions, so that we can become better believers by coming to the answers on our own. And my answer to that particular question is that there is no good reason to believe that someone is a sinner simply because of who they love.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Dave said. “I’m still trying to figure out what I believe. I know I’m never going back to St. Paul’s. I’m done with listening to people tell me that I’m going to burn in hell. Sometimes I wonder if it’s even worth believing in anything at all, especially when there’s the kind of crap there is in the Bible, you know?”

“I know,” Quinn said. “To be honest, I mostly stick with reading the New Testament these days, though I stop before I reach Romans.”

“Romans, Ezekiel, Leviticus, Corinthians, Genesis,” Dave rattled off. “Can’t read them without wanting to give up and try Buddhism.”

“That’s a choice that’s entirely up to you,” Quinn said. “The same goes for your parents’ letter. No one would blame you if you blew it off and gave them the metaphorical finger. They wronged you badly. But if you do want my advice, I’d suggest reaching out. You don’t have to go running back into their arms; you could just go visit them and see how you feel then. You could even bring friends if you wanted the support. Any of us would go with you, you know that.”

“Yeah, but –” Dave pointed to the letter still clutched in her hand. “They used that damn buzzword. ‘Lifestyle.’ And ‘may have been wrong?’ If looks could kill, Kurt would’ve been six feet under. And they still want me to be straight – they actually put it like I’d been straight and could go back to being that way, but they wouldn’t force me to.”

“I suppose it’s my turn to say this,” Quinn said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but considering their starting point, this is huge. They’re actually trying to get over everything they’ve learned in church about homosexuality for you. They’re as conservative as my dad, and they’re trying because they love you.”

“I’d find it easier to believe they love me if they hadn’t kicked me out in the first place,” Dave said.

“People do horrible, awful, terrible things to each other,” Quinn said. “And they do the worst to the ones they love because they take it for granted that their loved ones will always be around to make amends to. My mom stood by and let my dad kick me out of our home when I needed their support the most, and I don’t doubt for a moment that she loves me.”

“I don’t know if I can do it,” Dave said. “They say they know I feel hurt, but it goes way beyond that. I mean, I’m their son, and they didn’t even hesitate to choose their faith over me.”

“Well, as Finn would say, we’ll back your play,” Quinn said. She handed back the letter and patted his knee. “Just think about it, okay?”

Dave sighed and stretched his legs out, taking in the sight of the passing buildings as the sky began to lighten further. “I can do that.”

“Good,” Quinn said, sounding satisfied. “Hey, I don’t think I’m going to get back to sleep. Do you want me to get you coffee in the food car, too?”

“I’ll go with you,” Dave said. He tucked the letter back into his wallet and stood, offering Quinn a hand up. “I told Kurt I’d bring him breakfast in a couple hours, anyway – might as well get it now so I don’t have to go down there again.”

“I’d like the company,” Quinn said, getting to her feet. “We should get Mike and Tina out here, too. I’m sure they’re bored of being surrounded by sleeping people.”

“Think we could run through our numbers in here?” Dave asked. “Very, very quietly?”

“That would be fun,” Quinn said as she and Dave headed to the car up ahead to get coffee and breakfast. “I can take Rachel’s part in your duet, if you want.”

“Not gonna turn down an offer like that,” Dave said.

Quinn smiled up at him and sang softly, “There’s nothin’ wrong with lovin’ who you are, ‘cause he made you perfect, babe.”

“Makes me think of their letter,” Dave said. “They wrote it right there. And I’m pretty sure they think Lady Gaga is in league with the devil, so it’s a funny coincidence.”

She laughed, startled, and grabbed his arm. “You’re right, they did, didn’t they? ‘God makes no mistakes.’”

“I’m on the right track, baby,” he told her solemnly. “I was born this way.”

Quinn had to slap her hand over her mouth to prevent her giggles from waking the sleeping passengers they were passing by, and Dave, feeling infinitely lighter, led the way to the food car, quoting lyrics as they went.

 

The train pulled in to Penn Station at around nine thirty that night, and as they all disembarked they waved and called out friendly goodbyes to the travelers they’d become acquainted with through their impromptu rehearsal in the viewing car. Despite the fact that it was meant to be a quiet space, Rachel and Quinn had sweet-talked the attendants into letting them practice there, promising to keep things relatively quiet so as not to disturb passengers in adjoining cars. They’d attracted a small audience nonetheless, and they’d all clapped enthusiastically as they ran through their set list, which started out on the mellow note of Ben Lee’s “We Are All In This Together” and ended on a triumphant rendition of Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way.” Santana had gone all out growling out the lyrics of “History Repeating” by the Propellerheads, and Quinn and Sam had killed their duet in Ben Folds’ “You Don’t Know Me.”

“How much do you want to bet someone took a video of it and is going to post it on YouTube?” Sam asked, hefting his bag over his shoulder as they made their way up the stairs to the city street above the station.

“It’s hardly worth betting on,” Kurt said. “Anything remotely interesting ends up on the internet these days.”

“I’d ben ten bucks and an honest attempt to get me inside the Museum of Sex on Sunday that it has a hundred hits by tomorrow,” Santana said.

“There’s a Museum of Sex?” Puck asked, intrigued.

“That’s what I hear,” she said. “They have some kind of burlesque exhibit up right now that I’d love to see.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Leroy Berry (whose name Dave had finally gotten straight after breakfast), “But it’s strictly eighteen and over, and they check IDs at the door.”

“Daddy,” Rachel said, “Please never even obliquely refer to having a sex life while I’m within earshot again. The thought of parental sex is traumatizing.”

“You’ll survive,” Leroy said cheerfully. “And don’t worry, we’ll pay for your therapy sessions should trauma actually occur.”

“Whoa,” Finn said as they reached the top of the stairs and exited onto the street. “That’s one big city.”

The first thing that struck Dave was the sheer size of everything: the buildings, the streets, the lights – they all seemed larger than life. The next thing that hit him was the traffic, both pedestrian and vehicular. It was half past nine at night, and the city was still buzzing with energy. “Fuck me,” he said blankly, staring up at the immense building around them. “This place is huge.”

“Language,” Carole and Mr. Schuester chorused, and at the same time Santana said lewdly, “Well, if you ask Kurt real nice, I’m sure he’d oblige.”

“Santana!” Kurt shrieked, beet red. “God!”

Santana rolled her eyes. “Jesus, loosen up already.”

“I’m going to be very nice and assume that it’s sleep deprivation that’s making you talk like that to my stepson and his boyfriend,” Carole said. “Come on, kids. Let’s go meet Hiram and Artie at the elevators.”

When they’d all met up again, they went out to the sidewalk to flag down large taxis that could take more passengers at once. One was idling at the curb, and Mr. Schuester issued quick orders to their group. “Alright, guys. Mercedes, Puck, Santana, Brittany, and Artie, you’ll go with me in the first cab. Hiram, Leroy, you’ll take Rachel, Dave, Kurt, and Quinn. Carole, you have Finn, Sam, Tina and Mike – take one of the regular cabs to the hotel. We’ll all meet up in the lobby and work out room assignments there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hiram said, and their assigned group stood back to let the first two get into the cabs unimpeded.  
After they’d taken off, Leroy turned to Hiram and said, “You’re on taxi flagging duty.” Hiram nodded and went to stand closer to the street to watch for passing taxi vans.

“Why is Hiram the one flagging down the cab?” Kurt asked curiously.

Leroy sighed slightly and said in a matter-of fact-tone, “It’s quite difficult for a black man to get a taxi to pick him up in New York, even in broad daylight wearing a business suit. At night, dressed for comfort, it would be nearly impossible. It’s simply easier to have Hiram take care of it.”

“Oh,” Kurt said. “That’s awful.”

“Yes it is,” Leroy said. “But on to happier topics. Are you excited to be in New York?”

“Very,” Quinn said with a bright smile.

“I’m a step away from going into throes of rapture,” Kurt said, eyes shining.

“You’re going to love it,” Rachel said. “There are so many incredible things we absolutely have to do on Sunday. You’re not getting out of it – I’m going to show you the city myself.”

“Only for a few hours,” Kurt said. He gave Dave a secretive smile. “I’ve already made plans for Sunday.”

“I want to know,” Dave said.

“You’ll find out later,” Kurt said.

A piercing whistle split the air, and they all looked over to see Hiram waving and standing next to one of the yellow and black vans. “Looks like we have a ride,” Leroy said. “Come on, kids. Let’s get a move on.”

They all piled into the van, holding their bags on their laps to preserve what precious little foot room they had. “Queens,” Hiram said to the driver. “Howard Johnson Express Inn.”

“Not a problem,” their driver said, deep brown skin crinkling around his dark eyes as he smiled at them through the rearview mirror. “I’ll get you there quick so you can get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay!” Rachel said happily.

He pulled away from the curb and took of down the street. “So where are you from?”

“Ohio,” Dave said. “We’re here for a singing competition.”

“Singing and dancing,” Rachel amended.

“Cool, cool,” the driver said. “You think you’ll win?”

“We hope so,” Kurt said.

“I’ll be cheering for you to win, then,” the driver said.

“Thank you,” Quinn said sincerely. “We appreciate it.”

Their driver grinned. “My pleasure, rooting for nice kids like you.”

They arrived at the hotel quicker than Dave had thought it would take given the size of the city, and as they got out of the van their driver – whose name, they’d learned, was Marcus – gave them a friendly goodbye and wished them luck once again. In the hotel lobby, Mr. Schuester and Carole were waiting with key cards, having apparently already sent the others up to their rooms for the night.

“Kurt, you’re rooming with Mike,” Mr. Schuester said, handing him his key card. “Dave, we’ve put you with Finn. Quinn, you’re with Santana, and Rachel, you’re rooming with Mercedes. Your room numbers are on your card envelopes. You’re all on the third floor. Go up and get some sleep, guys. We have a long day tomorrow.”

The four of them made a beeline for the elevator, not bothering to wait for their chaperones.

“I want to sleep for a week,” Kurt groaned as they stepped into the elevator.

“You can’t do that,” Rachel said, pushing the button for the third floor. “If you do, you’ll miss Nationals, and if you miss Nationals, we’ll be down a member and that might be all it takes to end up in last place, and then we’ll all go home in disgrace.”

“Overreacting much?” Quinn said.

“Show choir is serious business,” Rachel declared. “We’re so close to victory I can almost taste it, and I won’t let the lure of a comfortable bed take that away from me.”

“Rachel, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you’re insane,” Kurt said. “Get some sleep.”

“You’ll thank me someday,” Rachel said. The elevator stopped and they all got out.

“That someday is not tonight,” Kurt said. “Goodnight, all.” He caught Dave by the back of his neck and gave him a quick kiss. “See you in the morning.”

“Night,” Dave said, waving at Kurt’s back as he walked away. He checked the room number on his card. “Looks like I’m right there,” he said, pointing to the nearest door. “See you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Rachel and Quinn said.

He let himself in quietly, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he opened the door onto a dark room. _Finn’s already out. Good._ He kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his tee-shirt and boxers, falling into bed without bothering to brush his teeth. _Tomorrow’s gonna be interesting,_ he thought, and then he didn’t think much at all as he slipped into sleep.


	22. The Cowardly Lion Finds His Courage

Dave was jolted from his sleep by a loud rapping at their door. In the other bed, Finn flailed with his comforter and sat bolt upright.

"Whazzat?"

"Wake up!" Rachel shouted through the door. "It's already a quarter past six! You're wasting precious daylight!"

Dave groaned and sat up. "How pissed off would you be if I killed your girlfriend?"

"Wait 'til after Nationals is over," Finn said, climbing out of bed and stretching. "Then we'll talk."

"Good plan," Dave said. He yawned loudly and swung his legs over the side of his bed. "Dibs on the shower first."

"Get up!" Rachel shouted again.

"We're up!" Finn yelled back. "We'll see you at breakfast."

"Our neighbors probably hate us," Dave said. He grabbed a clean change of clothes and his toothbrush and shuffled into the bathroom, grimacing at the fuzzy feeling in his mouth. _Should've brushed my teeth last night._

He stole Finn's toothpaste and squirted a large glob of it onto the bristles of his toothbrush, sticking it in his mouth as he stepped into the shower and turned the water onto its hottest setting. It didn't take him more than a few minutes to scrub up and get clean, and he spat out the mouthful of toothpaste at the drain as the water swirled around to wash it down. He dried off quickly and pulled on his clothes and went back out to their room. "All yours, man. See you downstairs."

"Thanks, dude." Finn said. He made his way sleepily into the bathroom, dragging a pair of jeans behind him.

Dave gathered up his wallet, key card, and cell phone and headed out to the elevator, desperate for coffee and cursing Rachel six ways to Sunday in his head. He was met in the breakfast area by a sullen Puck and a very grouchy Kurt.

"One of these days," Kurt said, "I'm going to take one of her hideous sweaters and strangle her with it." He tugged Dave into the seat beside him and gave him a quick kiss, lips damp from the coffee he'd been drinking.

"If you need an alibi, I'll say you were with me," Puck said.

"Finn wants us to hold off until after Nationals," Dave said. "And speaking of murder, who do I have to kill to get coffee?"

Kurt pushed his large cup over. "Black, one sugar. If you want something else the urns are over there with the food."

Dave drank deeply, happy to find that it had cooled off just enough to not scald the roof of his mouth. "Thanks."

"And here comes food," Puck said as Santana and Brittany joined them, each carrying a plate in each hand piled high with a different kind of food.

"Budge over," Santana told Puck. She and Brittany set the plates down in the middle of the table and dropped a handful of forks and napkins next to them. "Eggs, toast, fruit, croissants. Breakfast of champions. We'll need to keep our strength up if we're going to take on the midget and win. She's small, but she's wily."

"I'm sure we can come up with a clever trap if we put our heads together," Kurt said. He took a croissant and split it with his fork lengthwise, adding a modest serving of scrambled eggs and putting the two halves back together like a sandwich.

"But how would we trick her into it?" Dave asked.

"Sheets of gold star stickers," Brittany suggested around a mouthful of strawberry. "She likes those."

"That's brilliant," Kurt said.

Brittany lit up at the praise. "Really?"

"Definitely," Santana said.

"I can hear every word you're saying, you know," Rachel said, coming up behind Puck and Santana.

"Speak of the alarm clock," Kurt said dryly. "And how are you this morning?"

She dropped into the last free chair at their table. "Stressed, nervous, wired, and did I mention stressed?" she said. "I'm sorry for waking you. I'm just jittery."

"Never, ever do it again," Kurt said. "Or I will be forced to take extreme measures. This may involve stealing every one of your sweaters, soaking them with lighter fluid, burning them in a bonfire, and roasting marshmallows over them."

"Okay," she said in a small voice.

Kurt handed her the last fork. "Eat," he commanded. "If you faint on stage I'll mock you relentlessly until we graduate."

Rachel took it as the forgiveness that it was intended to be and reached for a piece of toast. "Thank you."

"Stop freaking out," Puck said. "We've got this. I mean, yeah, we might not win, but there's no way we're gonna end up on the bottom. We're rocking our set list and you know it."

"I know," Rachel said. "Ideally, I'd far prefer that we go home as victors, but if we can't –"

"Then the next best thing would be Vocal Adrenaline not getting first place this year," Santana finished. "Those bastards don't deserve to win, not after last year."

"Vocal Adrenaline?" Dave asked.

"Our archrivals," Kurt said. "Suffice it to say that there is bad blood between New Directions and Vocal Adrenaline. We're like the Sharks and the Jets, with our dear Miss Berry playing the part of Maria last year."

"Don't remind me," Rachel said. "What I thought was a star-crossed romance was in fact a duplicitous attempt on the part of one Jesse St. James to earn my affections and sabotage Glee from the inside."

"Someday he'll get what's coming to him," Santana said. "Preferably syphilis and a very public sex scandal once he's famous. Maybe he'll get really bad laryngitis and fuck up his vocal cords."

"I live in hope," Kurt said.

They lingered over breakfast, chatting amiably about their plans for their free day tomorrow. Kurt remained frustratingly tight-lipped about what he had in store, but he deigned to say that Dave would enjoy it quite a bit. Santana, Puck and Brittany agreed that despite what Leroy had said, they'd still try to get into the Museum of Sex, and Rachel waxed rhapsodic about the Great White Way and how her dads had purchased tickets for her and Finn to go to see 'Chicago' together, pouting slightly when she said that Finn wanted to go to the Statue of Liberty more than a Broadway production. When they exhausted that line of conversation, they turned their attention to quietly running through their numbers together one more time.

"Time to go, guys," Mr. Schuester said, approaching their table, and Dave reflexively looked down at his watch. Nine? How did time pass that quickly?

"Off to LaGuardia," Rachel said with only the slightest hint of a tremor in her voice.

"Just be grateful we're in the first six," Kurt said. "We won't have to wait long enough to really get worked up."

"You have a point," Rachel said.

They stood and followed Mr. Schuester out to the sidewalk in front of the hotel where the other students and their chaperones were waiting by an extra-long van bearing the name of the hotel on its side. "We're taking the shuttle to the high school," Mr. Schuester said. "Everybody in, we don't want to be late."

They scrambled into the van, some of the girls doubling up their seatbelts for lack of room, and once everyone was in they headed off to LaGuardia High School, where the competition would take place. Dave, squashed up between the window and Mike, tapped out the beat for 'All In This Together' on the seat in front of him. "This is gonna be interesting," he said.

"To say the least," Mike agreed.

They were unusually quiet on the ride over, and when they were dropped off in front of the concert hall they all went still and stared out at the different Glee Clubs milling around by the doors.

"We're really here," Tina said, sounding stunned. "I mean, I knew we were here, but we're _really here_."

Carole and Hiram broke the weird, nervously awed moment by handing them all their outfits. "Focus on one thing at a time," Carole said. "Dressing rooms first."

They trailed after their chaperones in a daze, following them into the concert hall and around to the crowded backstage. Hiram took a cursory glance around the area and said, pointing, "Girls that way, boys this way. Let's get a move on."

Dave and the other guys went in the direction Hiram had indicated, and found the dressing room with relative ease. Getting inside, however, was a different story, as it was crammed full of other students who were in various states of undress. One of them looked up and called out to the others, "Got another seven coming in. Pack in tight, guys." The crowd moved incrementally closer to the back, and they were just able to step inside and close the door.

"Newbies?" another asked as they stripped down to their underwear and pulled on their outfits as quickly as they could.

"Yeah," Finn said. "We're pretty stoked."

"Where are y'all from?" a third drawled in a thick Southern accent.

"Ohio," Sam said, and the first guy shook his head sympathetically.

"Damn," he said. "Vocal Adrenaline turf. You poor bastards."

"Way we figure it is that if we don't win, the next best thing would be Vocal Adrenaline losing," Puck said.

"Not gonna be a problem," a new voice called out. "Knights and Daze are bringing the noise _hard_ this year."

"Thank you ahead of time," Kurt said, and looked around at their small group. "Are we ready?"

"Let's go meet the girls," Dave said.

"Good luck, newbies!" one of the guys called after them as they slipped back out the door.

They caught up with the other half of their group on the floor just down to the right of the stage. "They were all weirdly nice in the dressing room," Quinn said. "Did that happen to you too?"

"Yeah," Puck said. "Maybe they're just normal and we're too used to Vocal Adrenaline to know the difference."

"That's probably it," Santana said. "Well, time to find our seats and get intimidated by the first performances."

"Joy," Sam muttered.

Their assigned seats were near the front since they were performing relatively early in the competition. As they filed in to fill their section, a large group of students dressed in black and gold trooped by, and everyone in New Directions stiffened and glared daggers at them. They must be Vocal Adrenaline, I guess. A short Asian girl turned and waved at them, and the glares were immediately replaced by smiles and waves. As soon as she turned back, they began glaring again.

"Who's she?" Dave asked Kurt.

"Sunshine Corazón," Kurt said. "She transferred to Carmel High at the start of the school year. She's an utter sweetheart; it's impossible to hate her."

They sat and watched in silence as the other groups began to take their seats in the orchestra section. Kurt brushed his hand lightly over Dave's, and Dave captured it with his own and forced his shoulder muscles to unclench. Rachel would be appalled to know what he was thinking, but Dave would be totally satisfied even if they went home in last place. They'd made it to Nationals, and that was honestly all that really mattered to him in the long run.

 

"Placing seventeenth out of forty on our first visit to Nationals is fantastic," Kurt said again over their "celebratory pizza dinner."

"And Knights and Daze knocked Vocal Adrenaline from the top," Quinn said. "That alone is cause for celebration."

"Hear, hear," Mike said, and they all toasted with their pizza slices.

Kurt looked over at Dave, having noticed that he was lost in thought. "Is everything alright?"

Dave blinked. "I'm fine. I was just – I figured things out." He'd just realized that somehow, in the space between watching the thirty-four performances that had followed him and sitting down to pizza, he'd made up his mind about the letter without any conscious effort on his part.

It wasn't that Dave necessarily wanted to do it, but Quinn's advice on the train yesterday had lodged under his skin like an itch he couldn't scratch, nagging at him to come to a decision one way or another. He could hardly believe he was stupid enough, naïve enough, to do it, but his hand kept drifting to the phone in his pocket, and he knew that like it or not, he'd find himself on the phone with his parents sooner or later, and it was far more likely to be sooner than later.

It was time to bite the bullet. He nudged Kurt and knocked on the table lightly in front of Quinn, and when he had their attention he said, "I'm gonna do it. When we get back to the hotel."

"Are you sure?" Kurt asked. "You can take all the time you need, you know."

"I know, and I'm not sure at all," Dave said. "But I'm gonna do it. Will you guys be there? Just in case it goes bad?"

"Of course," Quinn said immediately.

"You don't ever need to ask," Kurt said. "Whatever you need."

Mike, Tina, and Sam listened in curiously, and Tina asked, "What's going on?"

"Can I tell you after?" Dave asked. "I'm not – it's not that I don't trust you, it's just hard for me to deal with. Or talk about, even."

"No problem," Mike said. "Whatever it is, hope it goes well for you."

"Thanks," Dave said gratefully.

"No prob, dude," Sam said. He shoved the half empty platter of pizza over toward him. "Have more gooey tomatoey stuff. It'll make you feel better."

Dave, Kurt, and Quinn reached for their second slices of pizza in unison, and at Quinn's incredulous look Kurt said, "If homework doesn't exist this weekend, then neither do calories."

"Makes sense to me," Tina said. "Though if that's the case, we probably should have gotten extra pepperoni."

"My skin would not have thanked you for it," Quinn said.

"Nor mine," Kurt added.

"I'd still think you were beautiful even if you got a huge pimple," Sam said to Quinn. He reached out with an oily fingertip and poked her nose. "Right there."

"Augh!" She slapped his hand away from her face and snatched a napkin from the table. "I'm going to be feeling that for hours," she told him tartly, wiping her nose with the napkin. "Thank you so much for that."

"I'm sorry," Sam said with a comically hangdog expression.

"I'm sure you are," Quinn said, a glint in her eye that spoke of nothing but trouble for her boyfriend. "Because if you're not, you will be."

Sam paled. "Not the Doctor Who DVDs," he said. "Take Stargate, take Buffy, hell, take Torchwood," he said desperately.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Quinn said with badly feigned innocence.

"Never fall for someone who knows your weak spots and is totally willing to use them against you," Sam told the rest of their table gravely.

"I'll remember that," Tina said. "Thanks for the advice."

Dave just nodded in vague agreement, only paying the conversation a fraction of the attention he usually would. He was too focused on the conversation that lay ahead to stay entirely in the present. Kurt put a hand on his knee and leaned in.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked quietly.

"What I'll say to them," Dave said.

"You can say whatever you want to," Kurt said. "Even if you just want to yell at them."

"I know," Dave said. "I just want to have a plan. That way I won't get all tongue-tied when I get them on the phone."

Kurt gave his knee an understanding squeeze. "Do you want any help with that?"

"No," Dave said. "I kinda want to figure it out on my own. But if I need help, I'll definitely ask you."

"Alright," Kurt said, and he went back to participating in the lighthearted conversation surrounding Dave, his hand a steady spot of warmth on Dave's knee.

What did he want to say to them? What did he need to say to them? It was hard to find the line that separated the two. And for that matter, what did he need to hear from them in order to make responding to their letter even remotely worth it? He stared blindly at a dark whorl on the wooden table as he ate his pizza and thought it through.

When they got back to the hotel, Kurt and Quinn accompanied Dave to his room. Finn was already there, lounging on his bed and flipping through the channels on the TV. "Finn, could you possibly clear out for a while?" Kurt asked.

"I don't know if couples are allowed to be alone together in the rooms," Finn said. He spotted Quinn and added, "But I guess you aren't, so, sure. I'll go see what Mike's up to."

"Thank you," Dave said. For not asking questions. For being accommodating. For doing exactly what I need you to do to make this just a little bit easier on me.

"It's fine, dude," Finn said, brushing off his gratitude casually. "See you later."

After the door closed after him, Quinn asked, "Are you ready?"

"Not at all," Dave said. "Let's get this over with." He sat on the edge of his bed, phone in his hand He stared down at it, willing it to dial the number himself or run out of battery or break, and he felt the bed sag slightly as Kurt and Quinn took seats on either side of him.

"You don't have to do this now," Kurt said.

"We've finished Nationals, I'm several hundred miles away from Lima, and I'm with you," Dave said. "I can't think of a better time or place." He took a deep breath, flipped the phone open, and dialed his parents' number. Kurt took his free hand and held it firmly. I can do this. I will do this. I have the courage to say what I need to say.

It rang. Once, twice, three times –

"Hello?" his mother said.

Dave squeezed Kurt's hand hard and said steadily, not a trace of a quiver in his voice, "Hi, Mom."

"Dave?" she said softly. "Dave! We were beginning to think you'd never call." He heard a rustling sound, and his mother called out in a muffled voice, "Honey, it's Dave!"

"Is Dad there too?" Dave asked.

"Yes, yes he is," his mother said, sounding flustered. "Would you prefer to talk to him?"

"No," he said. "Put me on speaker. Please."

"Of course," she said. He heard a beep, and then his mother said in a slightly more echo-y voice, "I suppose you got our letter."

"I got it," Dave said. He stopped for a moment, torn between skipping this particular want or just coming out and saying it. Kurt squeezed his hand back, and he said, "Let's just pretend you already got the 'language, young man' thing out of the way, okay? Because I have to say this. What you did to me? It was fucked up. And I kept trying to figure out what the fuck I did wrong, or why I wasn't good enough for you to love me no matter what like parents should, but you know what? I got to this point last year – last Christmas, matter of fact – where I just threw up my hands and said, 'fuck them.' And if you don't get why, or you think I should've just fucking taken it as what was right and proper because I'm gay, then understand this. I'm not going to come back."

"David," his father said, voice wavering between regret and heavy disapproval. "Dave. We – we understand how you must feel."

"No, you don't," Dave said. "You can't. If you did you never would've done it in the first place. I don't want you to understand it. I wouldn't wish that kind of understanding on anyone. So forget that, that's not what I'm saying. You don't need to understand how I feel. You need to understand why I feel like this. And why I have every fucking right to feel like this."

"We understand why," his mother said in a placating tone. "Do you understand why we did what we did?"

"Honestly, no," Dave said. "And I hope to god I never do." He let go of Kurt's hand and tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder to rub his temples wearily. "You want me home? Stop trying to justify it."

"Dave," his father started to say.

Dave cut him off. "If you try to explain it like it's okay or makes things right, I'm hanging up."

"Alright," his mother said, sounding as if she was biting back the very thing that would make him hang up on them. "What else did you want to tell us?"

"That I'm still gonna stay with the Hummels," Dave said. "I can't come back now. You still believe the crap you do, and even if you don't try and send me to that camp Uncle Steven works at, I know you still think I'm going to hell, no matter how nice you put things in your letter. Yeah, you're trying, good for you, but I need more than that before I even think about moving back in."

"I don't like it," his father said. "But we won't fight you on it."

"What would make you willing to come home?" his mother asked.

"Get a pen and paper," Dave said with a thread of bitter humor. "I have a list."

To his surprise, he heard more rustling, and after several seconds his mother said, "Alright. We're ready."

"Leave St. Paul's," Dave said. "I mean today. Don't even go tomorrow. Find another church. Go someplace that doesn't hate me. Go to St. Simon's." His father sighed heavily, and Dave said, "Do you want me back or not?"

"We do," his mother said. "What else?"

"Uncle Steven can't come over any more – not until I graduate, or not until he quits working at that camp and calling being gay a perversion or deviant," Dave said. "Go to a PFLAG meeting. Get some counseling. Maybe from that minister at St. Simon's you wrote about. Stop calling being gay a lifestyle. It's an orientation. Open up your Bible and read the red text for once. Accept that I am who I am and that it's not going to change. Stop hating gay people." He waited for a few seconds. "You got all that?"

"Yes," his father said, voice again that strange mix of regret and disapproval, though it was far heavier on the disapproval this time.

"Good," Dave said. Now came the hard part – the easiest for them to hear, but the hardest for him to say. "When we get back from New York, I'll come and visit."

"Oh, Dave," his mother said. "We'd – we'd like that."

"I'm not going to stay long," he said. "And I'm not coming alone. I'm gonna bring Burt. And Kurt." And there was the real test, right there. How would they treat his boyfriend? His mother had accused him of turning Dave gay, and his father had looked at him with unadulterated loathing on Christmas Eve.

"And Kurt?" his mother repeated faintly.

"And Kurt," Dave said again. "He comes too. Take it or leave it."

His mother was the one who heaved a heavy sigh this time. "Fine."

"Good." Dave sagged in relief. "I – I have to go now."

"Of course," his mother said quickly. "Oh, and Dave. We wanted to tell you – congratulations on winning the championship. And for making it to Nationals with your Glee Club."

"I, uh." Dave picked at a loose stitch on the knee of his jeans. "Yeah. Um, thanks. Well. Bye." He hung up before he could hear their responses and flopped onto his back on the bed. "Holy fuck."

"That was incredible," Kurt said, falling back to lie beside him. On Dave's other side, Quinn did the same.

"I can't believe I just did that," Dave said, stunned.

"I'm thoroughly impressed," Quinn said. "That took guts."

"Helps that I barely let them get a word in edgewise. Think I might've lost my nerve if I had," Dave said.

"But you didn't," Kurt said. He rolled over and gave Dave a tight hug. "You have no idea how proud of you I am."

"I think I might," Dave said, hugging him back. _I'm pretty fucking proud of me, too._

Quinn pried one of Dave's arms up and slid underneath. "Make room for me. I'm celebrating, too."

Dave pulled her in close. "Can't leave you out," he said. The weight – the significance – of what had just happened hit him like a ton of bricks, and he couldn't help laughing, uncontrollable semi-hysterical giggles that stole the air from his lungs and made his diaphragm ache.

It must have been contagious, because Kurt buried his face in Dave's neck, and his shoulders began to shake violently from the force of his own laughter. "I can't believe you said 'fuck them' to your parents," he gasped out. "My god, you're insane."

"I just wish I'd thought to record your conversation for posterity," Quinn said, giggling.

"I guess you'll be able to enjoy tomorrow without any worries," Kurt said.

Dave grinned up at the ceiling widely. "That sounds about right. God, my day's complete and it's not even six thirty yet. What else can we do?"

"We could get everyone together for a hotel-wide game of tag and see how long it takes the chaperones to break it up," Quinn suggested.

"I'm all over that," Dave said. "In a bit. Gotta take a moment to revel first."

"Revel away," Kurt said. "We'll be right here."

"I know," Dave said, shifting to get more comfortable with them piled on top of him. _It's exactly where I want you to be._

 

Knights and Daze are a real show choir from Baltimore City College.


	23. A Day Worth Remembering

"Wow."

"You said that right," Kurt said, leaning back against Dave's chest as they gazed out across the Manhattan skyline from the 86th floor observatory of the Empire State Building. "'Wow' definitely sums it up."

At Rachel's insistence, they'd torn through their breakfast at seven-thirty this morning in order to get to the Empire State Building right when it opened, and she'd definitely had the right idea as the outdoor observatory was far less crowded than Dave had anticipated it would be. Consequently, Kurt and Dave had been able to claim a spot right against the fence that they would have had to fight for had they arrived an hour later. So there they were, Dave holding Kurt from behind and Kurt's thumbs casually hooked through Dave's belt loops, both of them dressed down almost to the point of looking like they were about to get elbow-deep in the engine of a badly neglected car. Kurt, of course, still managed to look effortlessly elegant despite wearing jeans and a tee-shirt, and he'd surprised Dave that morning by handing him one of Dave's older shirts and a pair of his most worn out jeans. All of their friends who had woken up early enough to see them at breakfast had done a comical double take at Kurt's outfit. At their questions he'd simply given them a mysterious smile and sipped his coffee.

"So what am I looking at?" Dave asked.

"That building over there is the Chrysler Building," Kurt said, tilting his head to indicate a skyscraper that Dave was reasonably certain his boyfriend would describe as Art Deco. "That's the Queensboro Bridge, and that's the East River. Across the way is Roosevelt Island."

"You know a lot about New York for a place you've never been to before," Dave said.

"I'm planning on living here someday," Kurt said. "Going to Tisch and studying drama, hopefully taking Broadway by storm, earning a Tony and the adulation of critics and fans alike…."

"Not Julliard?" Dave asked. "I thought that was the place to go for singing and dancing and all that."

"Julliard has a much more classical bent," Kurt said. "I'm many things, but I'm not classical. And while I am confident in my singing, I'll need a thorough grounding in acting to even be able to touch Broadway."

"Hmm." Dave pulled Kurt closer. "So – what would a guy like me do here while his boyfriend is working on a degree in drama?" _Should I even be asking this with a year left of high school? And only two months after we got together?_

Kurt looked away from the breathtaking view for a moment to twist his head around and brush his lips across Dave's. "Whatever he wants, as long as it involves his drama student boyfriend."

"Somehow I don't think he'd have a problem with that," Dave said. _Not too soon. Thank fuck._

"That's good," Kurt said. "Because I don't plan on letting go of a relationship I believe I called 'real, solid, and lasting.'"

 _I love you._ "I think you might've said something like that," Dave said.

Kurt made an indistinct sound of agreement and relaxed into Dave's embrace.

"What are we doing next?" Dave asked.

"Ditching Rachel and Finn," Kurt said. "Then we're going for a walk."

"A walk where?"

"Around," Kurt said.

"And does 'around' have anything to do with the subway map in your back pocket?" Dave asked.

Kurt laughed. "Possibly."

Finn and Rachel drifted over to join them, Rachel tucked firmly under Finn's arm. "Hello, lovebirds," Rachel said in greeting.

"Hello, pots," Kurt replied. "We're kettles."

"We thought we'd take a stroll through Bryant Park," she said. "It looks so lovely from up here."

"And then the Statue of Liberty," Finn said. "You guys wanna come?"

"No, but thank you," Kurt said. "We have plans for the day already. But have a good time."

"That we most certainly will," Rachel said. "We're going to head out now. Do you want to ride down with us or stay a while longer?"

Kurt turned in Dave's arms and raised his eyebrows. Dave shrugged back, and Kurt smiled and nodded over Dave's shoulder. "We'll come with you."

"Great!" Rachel chirped, and Dave reluctantly let go of Kurt so they could follow Finn and Rachel back inside to the elevators.

As they rode the elevator down together, Rachel asked, "Kurt, excuse my prying, but why are you wearing clothes that you'd normally need to be forced to put on at gunpoint?"

"Perhaps it's a red herring," Kurt said. "It's entirely possible that there's no reason at all for my less than stellar sartorial choice except to direct everyone's ideas of what today's plans entail away from the actual plans."

"That's clever," Rachel said. "I don't believe a word of it, but it's very clever."

"Or," Kurt continued, "I told you that it's a red herring because I knew you'd be skeptical, and therefore wouldn't entertain the possibility that it actually is intended to be misleading." At Rachel's fondly exasperated look, he added, "Or it could be because it really does have something to do with what Dave and I are doing today."

"Okay, wait," Finn broke in, going slightly cross-eyed as he attempted to puzzle out what Kurt had said. "Which is it? I'm confused."

"Then my work here is done," Kurt said. "I've confused my brother, I've annoyed his girlfriend, and I've seen Manhattan from a dizzying height. That's not half bad for a morning's work. I think I've come out ahead, actually."

"I think we'll be glad to leave you behind for the day," Rachel said.

"That suits me fine," Kurt said. A spark of mischief lit his eyes and he told Rachel, "If you and Finn sing 'Empire State of Mind' on the ferry to the Statue of Liberty – and provide proof – I'll take you both out to dinner on my own dime when we get back home."

"Deal." Finn stuck his hand out and Kurt shook it firmly.

"Deal."

The elevator came to a halt at the ground floor, and as soon as the doors slid open they stepped out and squirmed their way around the knot of people waiting to ride it back up. Once free of the small crowd, they made their way out to the sidewalk in front of the Empire State Building and turned to face each other. "Well, this is where we leave you," Kurt said. "Don't get into too much trouble."

"Us? Trouble?" Rachel said. "Never."

"Of course not," Kurt said. "I don't know what I was thinking." He smiled and laced his fingers through Dave's. "We'll see you later."

They walked down West 34th Street together hand in hand, chatting and gawking like the tourists that they were. "Don't let me cross the street," Kurt said as they neared Herald Square.

"Can do," Dave said. "But what for?"

Kurt pointed. "Because that is one big Macy's, and if I go in there, all of my careful planning for the day will fly right out the window."

"Should I put my hand over your eyes until we're past it?" Dave asked.

"Tempting," Kurt said. "But I think I'll be fine if you just keep hold of me."

"And here I thought you were gonna ask me to do something I didn't want to do," Dave said.

Kurt laughed. "It's such a hardship, isn't it?" He scanned the area around them, looking for something. "There it is," he said, pointing to a subway entrance. "Come on." He led the way over and down the steps, tugging Dave along in his footsteps.

"We want the B train to Brighton," Kurt said as he fed the vending machine a ten dollar bill in exchange for four single ride tickets. Four quarters clattered into the return change slot, and Kurt scooped them up and tucked them in his pocket. "And it should be arriving in –" He grabbed Dave's wrist to check the time on his watch. "Three minutes." He handed Dave one of the tickets and went to the turnstiles to swipe his and get to the platform. Dave followed suit, and they found themselves a spot to wait for their train.

"What's in Brighton?" Dave asked.

"We're not going to Brighton," Kurt said. "We're going to another subway station to get on the C train to 168th Street."

"And what's on 168th Street?"

"We're not going to 168th Street," Kurt said. "We're going to stop way before we get there."

"Where are we stopping?"

"Eighth Avenue," Kurt said.

"What's on Eighth Avenue?"

"That stroll I mentioned," Kurt said. "And then lunch."

"You're not gonna tell me anything, are you?" Dave asked.

"I thought I just did," Kurt said.

Dave laughed and ducked his head to kiss Kurt's neck. "You know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Kurt agreed, tilting his head to the side with a soft sigh of enjoyment. "And no, I'm not. Half the fun of this is surprising you." Dave kissed the side of his neck again, and Kurt shivered. "Don't turn me on in public. I'm a kiss away from having to imagine Coach Sylvester naked."

Dave pulled back. "Eww. Point taken."

A rushing, roaring noise began to fill the air, and Kurt pulled away. "That's probably us," he said. The train came into view from out of the tunnel and stopped abruptly at the platform, and Kurt nodded. "Time to go."

As soon as the crush of passengers exiting the train had dwindled they got on board, stepping inside and grabbing a pole for balance just in time before it started moving again. "How many stops do we have to go?" Dave asked.

"Two," Kurt said. "We're getting off at West Fourth Street."

"Lead the way," Dave said.

Kurt smiled widely. "That's the plan."

Another train and twenty minutes later, they emerged from the subway station on 8th Avenue. Kurt consulted a small map of the neighborhood and said, "This way," taking off down 8th Avenue with Dave in tow. They walked far more slowly than most of the other people passing by them on the sidewalk, content to mosey along and take in the bustling street and the surrounding buildings. Kurt pointed out a few places he knew of and wanted to come back to visit – the Joyce Theater foremost among them – and Dave nodded and listened, the hum of the city settling into his bones and making him feel alive and alert in a way he'd never experienced before. After several blocks, Kurt turned the corner onto another street, and then took another left hand turn onto 9th Avenue.

"What are we doing?" Dave asked.

"Soaking in the culture," Kurt said. "And working up an appetite."

Dave nodded. "You have a good place picked out for lunch?"

"I might," Kurt said, and Dave laughed.

They soon stopped at an enormous industrial looking building of stone and red brick. "Here we are!" Kurt announced. "Chelsea Market: food for both of us and window shopping for me." He grinned at Dave. "Not too much window shopping, though, just enough to kill some time. I promise."

"I don't mind," Dave said. "Whatever you wanna do is good with me."

"I'll do my best not to take unfair advantage of that," Kurt said. He and Dave walked inside, and Kurt said, "Now, where did Leroy say it was?"

"Say what was?" Dave asked.

"Amy's Bread," Kurt said. "I suppose we could just wander until we find it."

It didn't take them long to find the bakery, and they stood outside the window and gawked for a while at the sight of the bakers inside mixing and weighing the dough by hand. "I can see why Leroy recommended this place," Dave said.

"Apparently the sandwiches are to die for," Kurt said. He took a look at the short but rapidly growing line at the register and hooked a finger into Dave's front pocket, tugging him inside. "We'd better take a place in line before it gets so long that we don't have a chance to eat before our next activity."

"And that's what, exactly?" Dave asked as they got in line behind a plump young woman with a shock of white-blonde hair.

"That would be telling," Kurt said. "A word of advice, O boyfriend mine. Never go into espionage. You'd be terrible at it."

"Damn," Dave said. "And here I thought I could be the next James Bond."

"You're not British enough, I'm afraid," Kurt said.

"You're breaking my heart here," Dave said.

The woman ahead of them giggled and turned around. "I don't mean to eavesdrop," she said, "But you guys are just so cute. You remind me of my girlfriend and me when we first got together."

"It's nice to be appreciated," Kurt said. "All of our friends are thoroughly sick of us being 'cute.'"

The woman grinned. "I hear you. Say, where are you from? You don't sound local."

"We're from Lima, Ohio," Dave said. "It's okay to feel sorry for us."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said. "If you didn't, do you think you'd have met? Everything important in your lives could very well be kismet, or fate, or what have you. Growing up where you did made you the person you are today, which in turn is what drew you together."

Dave saw that Kurt was quite literally biting his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything rude about her spiritual beliefs, so he changed the subject hurriedly. "You might be right. Got any recommendations for lunch here?"

"Anything," she said. "It's all wonderful. My favorite is the walnut and brie, but everything they make tastes delicious."

"Thanks," Kurt said, and added, "You're next."

"So I am," she said, and turned back around to place her order.

"What looks good to you?" Kurt asked Dave, looking over at the posted menu.

"The roast beef and pumpernickel," Dave said after a moment's contemplation. "You?"

"The goat cheese on the baguette," Kurt said. The friendly woman ahead of them paid for her order and went to wait for her sandwich, and Kurt stepped up to the counter. "We'll have the roast beef and pumpernickel, and the New York State goat cheese on the French baguette," he told the boy at the register.

"Want that for here or to go?" the boy asked. A bright green tongue ring clacked against his teeth on his t's as he spoke.

"For here," Kurt said, and handed over his debit card. "Will you grab a table for us?" he asked Dave.

"No prob," Dave said, and he made his way over to a small table against the wall to wait for Kurt, who joined him after a few minutes with their sandwiches in hand.

"Let's see if it lives up to its reputation," Kurt said, tangling his feet with Dave's beneath the table as he took a bite of his sandwich. "Mmmh." Kurt moaned around the mouthful, eyes closed. "We need one of these in Lima."

Dave took a bite out of his own and immediately had to agree. "Leroy had a good idea."

"Leroy is brilliant and should always be listened to," Kurt said.

"Sent from heaven to make our lives better," Dave said.

"Something like that."

They devoured their sandwiches faster than Dave had anticipated, and when there were nothing but crumbs left Kurt reached across to take Dave's wrist and checked the time again.

"Time to wander," he said. "We can't do our next activity until one-thirty."

"I'm all yours," Dave said. "Do what you want with me."

Kurt looked momentarily startled, and a warm, intimate smile stole across his face. "I like the sound of that."

"Me too," Dave said, knowing that his return smile was a mirror of Kurt's.

They left the café and headed out to wander around the market, stopping for brownies at Fat Witch and a bottle of cold milk to share at Ronnybrook before heading upstairs to peer inside the windows of the multitude of shops on the floors above. "Quinn would die of happiness if she set foot in there," Kurt said when they passed by the window display at Anthropologie. "It's full of upscale versions of everything she has in her closet."

"I never really noticed," Dave said. "I don't exactly pay attention to that kind of thing." _Just to what you wear. Because I can't take my eyes off of you._

"I know," Kurt said comfortably. "Much like I don't have the slightest clue what you're talking about when it comes to football." His phone beeped loudly, and he pulled it out of his pocket to see what the text was. "Come over here," he said. "Finn just sent me a video clip."

Dave stepped up beside him, and Kurt opened the file. A wobbly clip of Finn and Rachel began playing, their singing and dancing almost but not quite drowned out by the sound of the ferry crossing the water. _"Yeah, yeah, I'm up at Brooklyn, now I'm down in Tribeca, right next to De Niro, but I'll be hood forever,"_ Finn rapped.

Kurt cracked up. "I guess I owe them dinner," he said. "Oh, it's so worth it to have Finn on video rapping about being 'hood.'"

"That's what you wanted out of it?" Dave asked. "Blackmail material?"

"It's not blackmail material so much as a way to embarrass him five years down the road," Kurt said. "I'm planning on trotting it out whenever he needs his ego deflated later in life."

"That's very brotherly of you," Dave said.

"It really is," Kurt agreed. He typed in a quick reply and stuck his phone back in his pocket. "One more loop around the market, and then we can head to our second stop."

Dave nodded his acquiescence, and as they started walking again he said, "So, I'm not asking what all we're doing today, 'cause it's pretty obvious I'm not gonna get a straight answer out of you. But why are we doing all this instead of all the touristy things everyone else is doing?"

"Because this should be special, not a cliché," Kurt said. "I told you at Breadstix when our friends set us up that it was too pedestrian for a first date, so I think that everything we've done as a couple in Lima since we started dating doesn't count, and this is our real first date."

"You waited until we were all the way out in New York and two months into going out together to have a first date?" Dave asked. Kurt shrugged and smiled, and Dave pulled him in for a quick, delighted kiss. "That's sort of unbelievably romantic. And really cool."

"What can I say?" Kurt said. "You bring out my not so inner romantic side."

Dave grinned and captured his hand. "I like it."

They made one more leisurely circle around the second floor and headed back down the stairs and out the doors. "Off to the river," Kurt said, setting off in that direction. They headed out in the direction of the river, crossing busy 11th Avenue on a designated footpath and walking up the Hudson River Greenway to a large building on the piers. "Behold," Kurt said when they arrived. "Chelsea Piers. To be more specific, the Sky Rink."

"You're taking me ice skating in June?" Dave asked, following Kurt into the building to the rink.

"I'm taking us ice skating in June," Kurt said. "I haven't been in years, and I'm willing to bet you miss being on the ice, regardless of whether or not you miss playing hockey."

"You're amazing," Dave said sincerely. Kurt blushed faintly, and Dave gave in to the desire to lean in and kiss him again.

"The skate rentals counter is over there," he said, pulling back with an almost bashful look. "I'll be right back."

Dave found a bench rink side and took a seat, unlacing his shoes and tucking them under the bench. Kurt got back to him shortly with two pairs of skates dangling by their laces from his hands. "Here are yours," he said, passing over a pair. "I'm pretty rusty at this, so be patient with me."

"Like I'd be anything else," Dave said, pulling on the skates and cinching up the laces. He waited for Kurt to get his on and stood, giving him a hand up so they could take the few careful steps from the bench to the ice.

As soon as they hit the ice Dave was hit by the urge to push off the ice and race around the rink as fast as he could. Kurt was right; he had missed this. Instead, he put a steadying hand on Kurt's lower back and slowly propelled them forward. "Lean forward a little," he said. "When you push off to move forward, sweep the blades out diagonally behind you, not back and forth. It's not too hard."

"I don't want to fall," Kurt said as he followed Dave's instructions with intense concentration. "I bruise like a peach."

"That's what I'm here for," Dave said. "I'll catch you."

Kurt looked over his shoulder and smiled. "I know."

Once Kurt found his footing and settled into a good rhythm, he and Dave glided around the rink together, lost in conversation and in the clean, cold sensation of skating on ice. Dave lost track of how many circuits they made, too caught up in his boyfriend to pay attention to much else. Finally, after what seemed like mere minutes, Kurt dug in the side of his skate and reached for Dave's wrist again as soon as Dave came to a stop as well.

"Time to move on," he said, showing Dave the time. "They close up in ten minutes."

"Got something else to do?" Dave asked as they skated to the edge of the rink.

"It's almost as if you know me," Kurt said. He walked across the carpet to the bench where they'd stowed their shoes and began the process of unlacing his skates.

"I like to think so," Dave said. He tugged off his skates and shoved his feet into his sneakers.

"We have plenty of time before our last stop," Kurt said, "So there's some flexibility. Do you have something you want to see, or are you fine with continuing with my ridiculously over-planned day?"

"It's been fun so far," Dave said. "I figure it can really only get better."

"Don't worry," Kurt said. "I've saved the best for last."

 

One leisurely walk through Central Park and two hotdogs from Gray's Papaya later, Dave found himself being led down West 50th Street by Kurt, who was practically vibrating with anticipation. "Close your eyes," he said as they got closer to their destination. Dave did so obediently, and Kurt led him by the hand the last several yards. Then he was turned to the side, and Kurt said, "Okay. You can open them now."

Dave opened his eyes, and for a moment he didn't know what he was supposed to be seeing. Then the gigantic poster in the window of the theater came into focus, and he burst into laughter.

Kurt had taken them to see 'Evil Dead: The Musical.'

"This is what you've had up your sleeve?" Dave asked, grinning broadly.

"I bought the tickets before we left Lima," Kurt told him. "And now we've found the perfect show. It's part musical theater, and part zombie movie. It's an unbeatable combination."

Just when I think I can't possibly love you more…. "How did you even find this thing?"

"YouTube," Kurt said. "It's an invaluable resource for all things zombie." He stepped up to the ticket booth and said to the agent, "Two tickets for Kurt Hummel, please."

The ticket agent's fingers flew across her keyboard, and she smiled and clicked on something, printing out their tickets. "Have a great time, guys," she said. "It's a fantastic show."

"Thanks," Kurt said.

They went inside and through the lobby, going all the way down to the middle of the third row. "This is kinda close to the stage, isn't it?" Dave said. "What's the view gonna be like?"

"I got these seats for a good reason," Kurt said.

"Does it have anything to do with why you have us dressed like we're about to help Burt out in the garage?" Dave asked.

"It most certainly does," Kurt said. "We're sitting right in the middle of the 'splatter zone.'"

Dave looked at him sideways. "And by 'splatter zone' you mean…"

"We're going to get splattered by fake zombie blood," Kurt said.

"Holy shit," Dave said. "You – oh my god." _Now. Yes. Now's the right time._ He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and clicked through to his drafts folder. His thumb hovered above the Send button for half a second. _I want you to know._ And he pressed Send.

Kurt's phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket to read the incoming text. He stared down at the message for so long that Dave began to worry he'd made a huge mistake. Then, slowly, an enormous smile broke out across Kurt's face, and he closed the message and handed his phone to Dave. "Look in my reminders," he said.

Dave navigated to Kurt's reminders folder and opened it. There was a single memo inside, and Dave pressed Okay.

 **Note to self: Tell Dave  
that I'm falling for him.**

Dave felt his own face overtaken by a huge, goofy smile. "Seriously?"

"Entirely," Kurt said. "I've had that in my phone since not-prom." He took his phone back and touched Dave's forearm softly. "How long?"

"Since Sectionals," Dave confessed.

Kurt leaned across the armrest between them and said, with only inches between their faces, "You're the amazing one for waiting for me to catch up."

"Worth the wait," Dave said quietly. He took Kurt's face between his hands and pulled him into a slow, deep kiss, as gentle as their first kiss had been hard, as joyous as the first had been miserable, infinitely better in every possible way. When they broke apart, he murmured, eyes still closed and hands still cradling Kurt's cheeks and jaw, "So I'm kind of stupidly in love with you. Just so you know."

"Then I guess we're just going to have to be idiots together," Kurt replied, not quite whispering. "Because I'm kind of stupidly in love with you, too."

The sound of the theater filling up finally registered, and he reluctantly let Kurt go as he realized that they didn't have nearly as much privacy as he'd have liked. "Guess we should turn off our phones," he said.

"That would be wise," Kurt said. He turned his cell phone off and laced his fingers through Dave's.

"So what do you think we should tell the others when we get back to the hotel?" Dave asked.

"That we've been out killing zombies," Kurt said.

"At least one of them will wonder if we're telling the truth," Dave said.

"We could get business cards made," Kurt said. "Hummel and Karofsky: Zombie Hunters."

Dave laughed and squeezed Kurt's hand. "We could definitely do that."

The lights dimmed, and the shuffling and whispering around them died down as the curtains parted. As the stage lights went on and the actors took the stage, Kurt swept his thumb absentmindedly across Dave's, and Dave felt certain that the only thing that was keeping him from floating off to the ceiling, as full of light, breathless elation as he was, was Kurt's hand anchoring him in his seat.

 _I'm the luckiest person on Earth. Because I love you – and you love me back._


	24. You Say Goodbye, and I Say Hello

"If we don't see you at least once a week, I'm breaking into your bedroom and kidnapping you," Santana threatened Dave as she squeezed him hard around his ribs. "That's a promise."

"You could always come bowling with us," Dave said.

Santana snorted and stepped back. "If you think me and Brit are the bowling type, then you're dumber than you look."

"Don't disparage my boyfriend," Kurt said over Mercedes' head, where they were currently tangled up in a tight hug.

"It's not disparaging if it's true," Santana said. She looped her pinky through Brittany's. "You owe us a movie marathon. And don't think you're getting out of going to Columbus Pride with us."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Dave said.

Mercedes let go of Kurt and latched onto Rashad. "None of us would miss it," she said. "Hell, we've been looking forward to it for ages."

"Damn straight," Rashad said. He grinned. "Or not so straight. Whatever."

Puck pulled Kurt into an awkward, manly, back-slapping hug. "It's been awesome," he said. "Don't disappear on us this summer, dude."

"Don't call me dude," Kurt said automatically, but he smiled. "I'll keep in touch."

A brief lull descended on their group as they wrapped up their goodbyes in the parking lot, yearbooks tucked away in backpacks or under arms, everyone wearing the bright red tee-shirts that Kim had brought to their last GSA meeting that lunch. They were emblazoned in big white letters with the unofficial slogan that Santana and Zach had come up with a while back: "McKinley High School GSA: More Awesome Than You." On the back, in smaller letters, they read, "And Probably Gayer Too." No one wanted to be the first to walk away from their friends on the last day of school, no matter how excited they were to begin taking full advantage of the two month vacation that awaited them.

"Party at my house tomorrow," Azimio said. "Six-thirty. Be there."

"What about your folks?" Dave asked. "Won't they flip out having the GSA there?"

Azimio shrugged. "They could use a little excitement. And hell, they haven't come over all Bill Donohoe for months. I think we're gonna be good."

"So that means I can come back over and beat your ass at Halo again, right?" Dave asked.

"You wish, fucker," Azimio said. "While you've been kicking back and watching zombie movies with your boy, I've been working on my game."

"Can't beat god given talent," Dave said. "I'm gonna kick your ass so hard you'll be crying like a baby when I'm done with you."

Azimio laughed. "Bring it, bitch."

"Gendered insults!" Rachel interrupted.

"Sorry," Azimio said. "Bring it, asshole."

"Am I going to have to separate you?" Rashad asked.

"Stick 'em in a room together with nothing to play but Yaris," Puck said. "See which one cracks first."

"You're a jackass and I'm gonna take your spark plugs when you're not looking," Dave said. "I know how to do that now."

"You're the jackass, jackass," Puck said. "Whoop-de-fucking-do. Tell you what. You don't fuck with my car and I won't go over to Azimio's and fuck with your account."

"I can live with that," Dave said. He grinned at Azimio. "Still gonna kick your ass, though."

"No you won't," he said. "All that mushy happy romance crap's making you soft. You couldn't take me on my worst day."

"I'm gonna remember that," Dave said. "And then I'm gonna take it out on you at football camp."

"I love you too, bro," Azimio said. He fluttered his eyelashes comically.

"I think we should take your pissing contest as our cue to leave," Quinn said. She went on tiptoe to kiss Dave's cheek. "Good luck."

"Thanks," he said.

There was a last quick round of hugs, and then they all split, calling out their goodbyes as they went.

"I can't believe it's already summer," Finn said as they climbed into Kurt's Navigator. "It's like, this whole semester just kind of flew by, you know?"

"I know what you mean," Kurt said. "My god, we're seniors now." He backed his car out of the parking space and headed out toward the street.

"Only one year left," Dave said. Then college, and New York, and Kurt, and Kurt, and more Kurt.

"Next year'll be even better," Finn said. "We're gonna be gods."

"Right," Kurt said. "Because clearly Glee and the GSA lend themselves so well to godhood."

"You're a pessimist," Finn said. "It's worked out so far this year, hasn't it?"

"That's true," Kurt conceded.

"Plus we get to put the fear of god into the idiot freshmen at football camp this summer," Dave said. "That's always a plus."

"Having their asses handed to them by a gay dude's gonna shut them up pretty quick," Finn said.

"If Coach Sylvester takes us back, I know Santana's going to have a blast terrorizing the freshmen," Kurt said. "It's doubtful, but an amusing image nonetheless."

"I just want to see you back in that uniform," Dave said. "You make a hot cheerleader."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Kurt said.

"If you guys are going to do things I don't want to know about this summer, tell me to clear out of the house first," Finn said. "And then don't tell me anything about it later."

"Likewise with Rachel," Kurt said. "Believe me, Finn, we don't want you knowing anything."

Finn settled back in his seat in satisfaction. "Good."

As they drove back home together they plotted out their summer plans: where they'd go (everywhere), what they'd do (everything), how they'd get around Burt and Carole in regards to the many summer parties they planned to have and attend (lying like a rug). Finn was desperate to teach Kurt how to throw a football, claiming that it was a necessary part of growing up. Kurt, in turn, insisted that the only way Finn would get him near a football would be if he submitted to an entire day of watching Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movies with him. Dave just sat and wondered how soon and how often he and Kurt would be left alone in an empty house together.

They hadn't gone far in the two and a half months they'd been dating, mainly from reservations about doing anything more while they were still sharing a house with Kurt's parents. They'd grown bolder, though, alluding to without outright mentioning the things they hoped they might get the chance to do sometime. New York had been something of a catalyst in that respect; they'd been running full tilt toward romance for so long it was only a matter of time before desire crept in.

Dave dismissed the thought. It probably wasn't the best thing to be dwelling on right before going out to visit his parents.

"No homework today," Finn said happily as Kurt pulled into the driveway and killed the engine.

"Speak for yourself," Kurt said. "I have to read 'The Age of Reason' and 'Narcissus and Goldmund' before classes start up again."

"Right, you're moving to AP English next year," Finn said. "Sounds boring."

"If it gives me an edge on my college applications, I'm all in favor of it," Kurt said. "Besides, I enjoy a good challenge."

They went inside and dropped their school bags on the floor with sighs of relief. Burt and Carole came out of the living room to greet them, Carole with hugs and Burt with a proud look in his eyes. "So you survived another year," Burt said. "Now we have to keep our fingers crossed that the summer survives the three of you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kurt said. "We're not planning on having a wild, unrestrained, bacchanalia of a vacation at all."

"Bacchanalia?" Finn asked.

"Look it up," Kurt said. "Webster is your friend."

"Don't give Finn a hard time," Burt chided, but with a smile that spoke only of approval at their brotherly relationship.

"We thought we'd take you boys out to Breadstix for dinner," Carole said. "How does five thirty sound to you?"

"Sounds great," Dave said. "We should be done by then."

"That's up to you," Burt said. "I'll be down here waiting for you when you boys are ready to head out."

"Thanks, Dad," Kurt said. He looked down at his shirt and then up at Dave. "I suppose we ought to change first before we go."

"Wouldn't want 'em keeling over from the shock," Dave agreed. He and Kurt went up the stairs and separated in the hall, heading to their respective bedrooms to find different shirts to wear.

Dave found himself once again staring into his closet indecisively, weighing one shirt against another against another, wondering what sort of impression each would make. Would this one make him look like he didn't care? Would that one make him look too eager to please? How would they take a tee-shirt compared to one of his button ups? Should he wear a shirt under a button up? Should he change his jeans? His shoes?

Should he even care this much?

Kurt came back faster than Dave thought he would, newly attired in dark gray shorts with a braided belt, black canvas boat shoes, and a light chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "I thought I'd spare them the full effect of my eminently fashionable self in action," he said, gesturing to his outfit. "It's not an enormous sacrifice on my part. These are all Summer 2011 essentials according to the more casual look books I've come across."

"I have no idea what you just said," Dave said. "But you look really hot."

Kurt crossed the room to give him a quick kiss. "You're sweet. I think I'll keep you."

"Good news for me," Dave said. He looked into his closed and sighed again. "I have no clue what to wear. I feel like I'm going on a date or something."

"Here," Kurt said, reaching past Dave to grab two shirts off their hangers. "Try these." He handed Dave a white long-sleeved shirt and a red and white short-sleeved button up shirt. "Casual, but not too casual, masculine, and very, very attractive on you."

"I don't know if attractive is the right way to go," Dave said, but he pulled his GSA shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor, tugging on the white shirt in its place.

"It's not the attractiveness so much as it's a reminder that you've thrived in your absence," Kurt said. "That's important."

"Point." He slipped his arms through the sleeves of his button up and started doing up the buttons. "Think it'll go okay?"

"I hope so," Kurt said. He took a seat on Dave's bed. "Do you want to go over your questions and answers again?"

"One more time won't hurt," Dave said. "Shoot."

"When you ask them whether or not they attended a PFLAG meeting, what do you want to say if they say yes?" Kurt asked.

"Um. I'm gonna tell them I'm glad, and I hope they're gonna go back," Dave said. He sat beside Kurt and leaned back against the wall.

"And if they say no?"

"I'll tell them I hope they go soon, because it matters a lot to me," Dave said.

Kurt nodded. "And how about switching churches?"

"If they say they did, then I'll just tell them thank you straight off," Dave said. "And if they haven't, then I'll say I wish they would, since I think it would help. Same with the counseling."

"What will you do if they go for a misplaced attempt at reconciliation between you and your uncle?" Kurt asked.

"I'll probably just leave," Dave said. "Try again later, maybe, after I've stopped being pissed. I don't have to touch the whole 'red text' thing, since I _know_ they did that, and I'm pretty sure they won't say 'lifestyle' at all while we're there."

"And I'm reasonably certain that we'll be able to tell if their feelings have changed at all regarding the LGBT community simply by how they act during our visit," Kurt said. "That does cover everything, right?"

"Almost," Dave said. "There's one thing they haven't said, and to be honest I don't know if I'm ready to hear it yet, but they haven't said they're sorry."

Kurt looked surprised. "Really? I know they didn't in the letter they sent you, but I'd assumed that they had when you called them."

Dave shook his head. "Nope. I'm pretty sure they still think it was at least a little bit justified."

"We'll work on that," Kurt said firmly.

"Yeah," Dave said. "Hope so." He looked down at his worn jeans and scuffed sneakers. "Think I should change the rest of my clothes too?"

"Leave things the way they are," Kurt said. "It projects two different messages. The first is that you came right over from school as soon as was possible, which they'll see as a sincere desire to work things out."

"And the other?" Dave asked.

"The second message is that you don't feel the need to impress them by dressing up since you see little reason to get back in their good graces," Kurt said.

"Those are some seriously mixed signals," Dave said.

Kurt smirked. "That's the point. They're already off balance simply by virtue of having you come over this afternoon. This just triggers a subconscious response to those conflicting messages as they attempt to figure out which impression is the correct one."

"So it's like the clothes version of psychological warfare," Dave said. "Huh. That's pretty cool."

"I consider myself an expert in the art," Kurt said.

"So what does the stuff you wear to school say?" Dave asked.

"Pre-GSA, my outfits said 'I have more self-respect on my worst day than you ever will, and I'm going to go places while you're going to be stuck here slowly rotting,'" Kurt said. "This, of course, was targeted at bullies."

"That's pretty specific," Dave said. "And what about now?"

"That I want to look my best because I take pleasure in it," Kurt said. "And to remind people that despite not dressing butch, I'm still talented, multi-faceted, and occasionally intimidatingly competent."

Dave laughed and tugged Kurt over so that he was lying sprawled across the bed, head on his thighs. "You're definitely all that."

Kurt closed his eyes and smiled, reaching up to play with the hem of Dave's shirt. "I have a question for you."

"Yeah?"

"You don't seem nearly as on edge about going to see your parents as I thought you would be."

"I'm totally freaking out," Dave said. "I mean brain going a hundred miles a minute, stomach churning freaking out. But I figure if I start actually acting as freaked out as I am, I'm not gonna have it under control when we get there, and I don't want them to see how much it gets to me."

"You do know we can cancel on them and do it some other time," Kurt said.

"I know," Dave said. "But I want to get it over with."

"As long as that's what you want," Kurt said. "So, two hours with your parents, dinner with my parents and Finn, and then we'll come home and make out on your bed."

"We could go see the new X-Men movie after dinner and make out in the theater," Dave suggested. "No chance your dad or Carole might walk by and do that embarrassing parental thing about appropriate behavior."

"Yes, but the armrests would get in the way," Kurt said. "I'll risk the embarrassment and take the bed."

"They'll kill us," Dave said, putting up a token protest.

"They haven't killed Finn yet, and given that he's infinitely more likely than we are to reproduce with Rachel, I think we're safe."

"I hope so," Dave said. "I really don't want to reproduce with Rachel."

"I should think not," Kurt said. He sat back up and got off the bed, pulling Dave upright along with him. "Oh, one more thing." He took Dave by the wrist and pushed his sleeve up to a couple inches below his elbow, repeating the act on his other arm.

"What's this supposed to mean?" Dave asked. "That I'm laid back about the whole thing?"

"No, this one's strictly for me," Kurt said. "I can never pass up an opportunity to ogle your forearms." He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, and added, "Or any other part of you, for that matter."

"Know how you told me not to turn you on in public?" Dave asked. "Don't make me want to get a head start on that whole getting horizontal on my bed thing with you right before we go see my parents."

"If you insist," Kurt said. He leaned in and gave Dave a warm, heady kiss, and when he pulled away Dave instinctively tried to follow and recapture his lips.

"Get back here," he said. "I want some more of that."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to encourage you," Kurt said innocently, but he gave in and kissed Dave again, just for a second but no less sweet for its brevity. "Come on. It's time to go into battle."

"Wearing psychological warfare clothing armor," Dave said. He headed out the bedroom door, Kurt by his side.

"Hey," Kurt said when they reached the top of the stairs. "I love you."

"Love you too," Dave said, and shot his boyfriend a sincere, if crooked, grin.

Down in the hall, Burt was waiting for them, keys in his hand. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Dave said.

"Let's get this show on the road, then," Burt said, and clapped Dave on the shoulder as he led the way out the door to his car.

The ride over wasn't quiet, since Burt had Dave's favorite alt rock station turned up to a high volume, but there wasn't a whole lot of talking going on between the three of them. Dave figured Kurt had already heard everything he needed to hear to reassure himself that Dave was fine, and Burt was probably giving him space to gather his thoughts before they got there. Either way, he was grateful for the lack of conversation, given the excruciatingly uncomfortable one that lay ahead.

Regardless of how well it might go, no matter how much things improved over the summer, even if he ever felt comfortable moving back in, Quinn's words from the train ride would probably never leave him. He might be able to forgive them someday. He'd never, ever forget it. And, like Quinn, a part of him would probably always be angry. But he had to try. If he didn't, he'd always wonder what could have happened.

Burt pulled up in front of his parents' house and turned the engine off. "Any last minute change of mind?" he asked, looking at Dave through the rearview mirror.

Dave shook his head. "I'm good." He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, Burt and Kurt not far behind. He walked slowly up the path to the front porch, and when the three of them were all standing together in front of the door, Dave offered up a silent prayer to a god he wasn't sure he still believed in and knocked firmly on the door.

The faint sound of footsteps reached his ears. He could tell by the quick tapping noise that it was his mother, wearing the shoes with the low heels she liked so much. The footsteps grew louder, and then the door was pulled open to reveal his mother, wearing her heels and a conservative sweater set and an uncertain smile. "Hello, Dave," she said. Her hand twitched at her side like she was going to reach out and offer it for him to shake, but she stayed the motion. "I'm glad you came." Over her shoulder, Dave could see his father hovering by the couch in the living room.

"This is Burt," Dave said, neatly sidestepping having to return the sentiment. "Burt, my mom, Helen."

Burt stuck out his hand. "We've met," he said flatly, making his mother flush. "Nice to see you under less…ugly circumstances."

"Yes," she said faintly, taking his hand and shaking it. "Likewise. Thank you for taking care of our son."

"We were glad to take him in," Burt said. "Your son is a real good kid. Any parent would be lucky to have him." His mother flushed a deeper red, looking flustered, and Dave couldn't help feeling just a little bit of vindictive pleasure at Burt's less than subtle jabs.

"I – yes," she said. "They would. Of course."

Burt looked like he could keep going until the stars came out, so Dave cut in. "Mom, this is Kurt." He hesitated a moment, then put his hand on the small of Kurt's back. "My boyfriend."

The flush faded from his mother's cheeks, and her uncertain smile turned brittle, as if the last hope she'd had that he'd possibly "go back" to being straight had just fled right before her eyes. Dave waited with far more patience than he truly felt for her reaction to his introduction. If this didn't go well he would leave in a heartbeat.

Then slowly, ever so slowly, she reached out her hand for Kurt to shake. "Hello, Kurt," she said in a wavering voice. "I'm Helen. It's nice to meet you."

Kurt, an unreadable look in his eyes, took her hand and gently shook it. "Likewise."

His mother opened the door wider and stepped back. "Please come in," she said, ever the perfect hostess. Underneath the manners Dave could hear so much more emotion than he usually saw from her in any given year, and it threw him just the slightest bit off balance.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, dropping his hand to take Kurt's in his own, and Burt put a steadying hand on his shoulder, squeezing down slightly in support. "Yeah," he said. "I can do that."

And with Burt at his back and Kurt by his side, he stepped across the threshold, ready to face whatever lay ahead.


End file.
